


Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

by PinkGerberDaisies



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Movie AU, Slow Burn, Time Travel - sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15023282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies
Summary: Tessa Virtue is an awkward and shy thirteen year old ice dancer who just wants to be one of the popular girls and get her first kiss. She fantasizes about looking like the girls in Vogue and being a well-adjusted adult, much to the chagrin of her skating partner and best friend. When disaster strikes on her 13th birthday, she makes a wish that turns her desire into a reality. But she quickly discovers that being 30 comes with its own set of challenges.An AU retelling of the movie 13 Going on 30 starring Tessa and Scott.Written at the request of @MissLizVirtue on twitter. Lizzie, I hope I do it justice. :)





	1. Make a Wish

The halls of the school are full of an underlying sense of anticipation and impatience. Sun streams in through the windows, a promise of summer vacation so close the students can almost taste it. Today, Tessa feels just about as confident and happy as an introverted girl entering puberty can feel. 

The morning started with a particularly great practice – she and Scott were really starting to nail the intricate foot sequences and Paul and Suzanne told them they had a lot of potential – she feels confident that she aced her history exam, and, best of all, today is her thirteenth birthday. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Scott drapes an arm around her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and for them it is. Although the other kids sometimes make fun of them – calling Scott her _boyfriend,_ which always makes Tessa turn bright red. “How did your biology test go?” 

He’s been helping her study all week and knows how anxious she’s felt. Biology is not her strongest subject. 

“Great!” She smiles at him while fiddling with her locker combination. The cheap metal contraption finally swings open after a hard tug, revealing the pictures plastered to the inside. Her and Scott winning bronze at the Canadian Championship back in January, the cast of Harry Potter, NSYNC, and, of course, Audrey Hepburn, her idol, on the 1964 cover of Vogue.

“That’s fantastic! I knew you could do it.” He says, smile stretching from ear to ear, and reaches out to squeeze her hand. After six years of skating together, Tessa is used to being touched by Scott, but that doesn’t stop her stomach from fluttering in a way that she chooses to ignore. 

Since moving away from their families to train in Kitchener-Waterloo under Paul and Suzanne, they’ve had to rely on each other so much – become each other’s family – and somewhere in the middle of all that Tessa stopped _completely_  understanding their relationship. It’s become somewhat of an enigma to her. She’d learned that word in English a couple weeks ago and now it was her favorite choice for labeling them. Not quite family, more than friends. 

“Hey, Tessa.” Her spine instantly straightens as she turns to face the girl who just spoke, surrounded by five other girls like pilot fish around a shark. They're all dressed perfectly with smooth hair parted down the middle, dressed as thirteen year old imitations of Rachel Green.  

“Hi, Dani.” Tessa says shyly, shuffling the books in her arms and wishing she had a mirror in her locker to check her appearance – hoping that her freckles weren’t too glaring today and feeling self-conscious about her pale skin next to their perfect tans. 

“How’d you do on the test, Virtch?” Dani's arms fold across her chest, accenting her recently acquired breasts, and her hip juts out in a carefully practiced attempt at cool indifference.

 “Okay. You?” Tessa replies, tightening her hold ever so slightly on her textbooks and biting her bottom lip. 

“I totally failed .” She says with a mock pout that quickly evolves into a smirk when her friends jump to her defense – telling her how amazing she is and that she’s the smartest girl in school. Tessa watches, longing to be a part of it and wishing she knew how to be beautiful and popular, instead of the scrawny skater girl. 

Her mom had promised that ice dancing would bring her friends – make her cool because she was winning awards – and warned her about fake friends trying to attach to that success. A warning that had ultimately proved to be completely unnecessary. Her own clumsy limbs and awkward stumble into puberty combined with her gift of making any conversation awkward had pretty much buried any chance of making friends before she could even try.  

 

Dani and her five friends – the Six Chicks, as they were called – were the coolest girls in the school. They knew all the latest fashions and how to do their make-up just right and oozed that kind of effortless cool vibe that some girls just seemed to understand as teenagers and others could never quite master. Tessa wanted to be just like them. Longed for it. The slumber parties, secrets, notes passed in class and giggles over boys. Sometimes she felt like the ice skating was depriving her of a normal teenage experience.  There were nights when she lied awake in bed after saying goodnight to her host parents and dreamt about what it would be like if she quit skating and someday worked for Vogue (her favorite fashion magazine) instead.

 

“I’ll meet you out front.” Scott says, reminding Tessa that he’s still there watching the interaction with undisguised disgust. 

“Do whatever you want. It’s not like she needs a play-by-play.” Dani replies, lip curling in a snide expression - eliciting laughter from the circle of girls around her that would have made a lesser boy cower and die of shame. Scott, however, had no patience for them and their juvenile tactics. Only fourteen, he already seemed to be developing an inner confidence that boys twice his age would envy. 

Tessa watches him walk away for a moment before turning back to the girls. 

“So Tessa, I told Josh Hodges me and the Six Chicks were going to your party – and he said he wanted to come with.” 

Tessa’s heart starts beating in double-time. Josh Hodges is the hottest boy in the school, according to Tessa's burgeoning libido, all floppy brown hair and bright blue eyes and leather jackets, blasting Green Day whenever he got the chance like he was the first person to discover them. Tessa had spent all year listening to Time of Your Life on repeat and imagining that someday a boy might write a song about her.

 “Really?” Her voice pitches up on the last syllable in a way that betrays her crush, and a few of the Six Chicks share glances in silent conversation.

 “Yeah,” Dani nods enthusiastically, “It’s too bad we can’t make it, because we really wanted to. Didn’t we girls?” She tilts her head to the side, waiting for confirmation that immediately comes.

 “Totally.”

 “So, so much.”

 “But Miss Measly’s up our butts with the group project and Josh is gonna help us out, so I guess he can’t come either.” Her bottom lip juts out in an exaggerated pout, and the other girls follow her lead and copy the expression. Tessa takes in their mournful, doe-eyed faces and thinks _this is it_. _They want to come! I have to get them to come_.

 “I could write your report for you.” The offer leaves her lips before she has a chance to even think about it. Desperation influencing her actions.

 “Awesome!” Dani nods, having gotten exactly what she wanted, and walks away with a bounce in her step, the other girls following behind her loyally.

 Tessa watches them go, a grin breaking out across her face, and turns to run outside where Scott waits for her.

 

 

 “I can’t believe you invited those clones.” Scott mutters as he walks her to her host family’s house. The afternoon sunlight highlights the gel in his spiky hair - his latest style. She's very grateful that he'd decided to move past the buzzed head phase. 

 “They’re my friends.” Tessa insists.

 “The Six Chicks are not your friends, kiddo.” He says it like it’s a given fact and nonchalantly snags a peony from the yard they’re passing, handing it too her with a dorky grin. “Happy Birthday.”

 She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the small smile that his gift brings out of her. Peonies _are_ her favorite. “A stolen flower. Thanks.” Their jointed laughter echoes down the street and Tessa loops her arm through his as they continue walking. After a moment she returns to the topic at hand. “Well, they're almost my friends. Someday I’m gonna be one of them.”

 Scott just mirthlessly chuckles and looks at her like she’s a naïve little girl. “There’s six of them. That’s kind of the point – there can’t be a seventh Six Chick. Besides,” he continues, looking straight ahead as he says in a rushed voice, “You’re way cooler than they are. And a million times more talented. And cuter. They’re carbon copies of each other. Unoriginal.”

 Tessa nearly trips when he calls her cute, but manages to hide the reaction and ignores the comment – instead arguing back. “I don’t want to be original, Scotty. I want to be _cool_.”

 “You are cool.” He insists fixing her with an intense look when they reach her front yard. It only lasts a moment before his face relaxes and he grins. “You spend hours on ice every day, how could you _not_ be cool.” He pulls another goofy face and Tessa can’t help but laugh at his dumb joke.

 “You’re an idiot.” She teases affectionately. “See you later?”

 “Wouldn’t miss it!” He waves and walks off in the direction of his own adopted home.

 

 

“Hey, sweetie, happy birthday!” Her mom’s voice rings out through the speaker on her phone, which crackles at the impact of her unexpectedly loud enthusiasm. “Tell me all about your new life as a teenager!”

 But Tessa doesn’t want to have a cheerful, if somewhat cheesy, conversation with her mom. She’s in the middle of a crisis. The sparkly red tank top she was going to wear has just ripped and it was the only shirt that made it look like she had some semblance of breasts. Now she would have to resort to one of her other shirts and looking utterly flat-chested.

 “Mom, I can’t talk right now.” She says desperately, nearly hanging up.

 “Honey, what’s wrong?” A wave of homesickness washes over her. Her mom would know how to fix this _and_ throw an amazing party. Here Tessa was left utterly to her own devices.

 “I have this party tonight and it’s, like, the _most_ important thing ever, and my shirt just ripped. I have nothing to wear. I look gross. It’s all going wrong!” She confides in one long stream of despair, flopping back onto her bed. “This is fatal.”

 “It’s not fatal, honey. I’m sure it’s not nearly as bad as you think.”

 “I hate my life.”

 “Enough of that. It’s going to be alright. You are not gross. I know you don’t look like those girls in Vogue, but you’re beautiful in your own way and-“

 “I don’t want to be beautiful in my own way. I want to be popular and pretty. I want to look like those people.”

“Oh, those aren’t people, honey. They're models and actresses – they pay people to make them look like that.” Her mom says with all the sense of someone who has aged out of these kind of insecurities and has somewhat forgotten just how excruciatingly important they are to teenage girls.

 “Thirty, flirty, and thriving.” Tessa reads off of the cover of the latest issue of Vogue. Natalie Portman staring at her with smoky eyes in a pink dress that Tessa dreams of modeling one of her costumes after. “Why the thirties are the best years of your life… Mom, I want to be thirty.” And she truly believes she means it.

 Kate laughs through the phone. “Well, you will be. But right now you’re my beautiful thirteen year old. Wear that pretty green shirt we bought last fall – it brings out your eyes.” With final promises to call after the party is over and affirmations of her mother’s love, Tessa hangs up. She walks back to her closet and finds the green shirt – it really is pretty – and puts it on.

 

* * *

 

_Chill out, what you yelling for?_

_Lay back, it's all been done before_

_And if, you could only let it be, you will see_

_I like, you the way you are_

_When we're, driving in your car_

_And you're, talking to me one on one but you become_

_Somebody else_

_'Round everyone else_

_You're watching your back_

_Like you can't relax_

_You're trying to be cool_

_You look like a fool to me_

 

Standing in the basement, thankfully newly re-carpeted after her host parents realized red shag carpet had gone out of style about ten years earlier, Tessa turns the music up as high as it will go. Using the TV remote as a microphone, she lets herself get lost in singing along to one of her favorite songs, her loose hair swishing around the top of her shoulders as she dances. 

She had spent all afternoon setting up for the party - cookies and chips and drinks and a stack of board games a mountain high. Having never been to a teenage party, she wasn't sure what other girls normally did, but she and Scott loved board games so it was a safe back-up plan. 

“Tess? Are you down here?” Scott’s voice yells out from the top of the stairs, immediately followed by the appearance of the boy himself – who laughs and shakes his head as he watches Tessa, who merely waves in greeting and continues her one-woman rock concert. 

When the last notes fade Scott says, “Don’t tell me. You want us to skate to that.” 

“Hmmm... Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to do Sk8r Boi?” Tessa jokes back, eyes dropping to the box he’s currently holding awkwardly in his hands. “Is that for me?” 

“Yeah, I uh… I made you something.” Scott says quietly, sounding so awkward that for a moment Tessa is taken back to the brief time when they sort of dated six years ago and he could barely speak two words to her. 

“You did?” She grins, watching in anticipation as he walks towards her and shoves the box into her hands without preamble. 

Tessa carefully breaks the scotch tape that’s holding the lid down before lifting it open to reveal a plastic gold medal, covered in sparkles that had clearly been added by Scott after the fact. 

“I know how hard you’ve been working – we’ve been working – lately, so I thought you deserved an award. Someday we’re going to win one of those at the Olympics, Tess, just wait and see.” 

She beams at him, lifting it out of the box and holding it close to her heart, not noticing the way little flecks of glitter stick to her fingers as a result. “I love it!” 

“I wanted to make it shine so I used glue and something called Wishing Dust I found at the dollar store. It was the closest thing I could find to glitter.” He shrugs apologetically, and Tessa wraps her arms around him in a tight hug, taking him by surprise.  

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

His neck turns a little pink as he returns her embrace, before pulling away and running his hands through his hair, unable to make eye-contact. “You’re welcome.”  

The doorbell rings from upstairs and Tessa drops the medal back in the box, the gift quickly losing its importance in her haste to get to the door. “They’re here! Oh my god. Scott, I’m just going to put this away, okay?” Before he can answer she pulls open the storage closet and puts it on the shelf, running up the stairs to answer the door. “Put some music on!” She yells back at him.

 

Tessa looks in the hallway mirror, straightening her shirt and smoothing down her hair, before answering the door. “Hi, guys. The party’s downstairs.” 

Dani looks around, unimpressed, before leading the pack inside – each of them throwing their jackets at Tessa as if she’s nothing more than a coat rack. She doesn’t mind though, because Josh has shown up with some of his skateboarding buddies and Tessa can hardly believe she's watching him walk into _her_ house. 

Downstairs, Scott has Eminem blasting from the stereo – he’s going through a rap phase – and is singing along word for word to _Without Me_. It’s impressive, considering he’s a teenage white boy, but also cripplingly awkward. Tessa feels the mortification creeping along her skin and has no idea what to do about it. He’s her best friend, but right now he’s ruining her night. 

“What is this?” Dani asks, nose crinkling in disgust. 

“Um… it’s Scott’s. He likes Eminem.” Tessa shrugs apologetically, glancing at Josh who has said less than two words to her since arriving and is currently occupied with chugging a can of soda as fast as he can while his friends cheer him on. 

Dani stands up straight and tall, marching over to the stereo and cutting Scott off mid-lyric.

“Hey!” He glares at her, looking to Tessa for support that she can’t seem to give him right now. 

“Sorry, freak, but majority rules.” She puts on the new J. Lo album. and the mood of the room improves immediately. The other girls start dancing and relief rushes over Tessa like a wave. 

“Stupid, hopeless people.” Scott mutters as he walks over to stand by Tessa. “I’m gonna run upstairs and get more chips.” 

Tessa feels the eyes of everyone else watching her. Watching _them_. She’s suddenly reminded of the frog they dissected in biology last week - trapped under a bright light and every feature on display for analysis. In a moment of panic, driven by the overwhelming need to have the approval of the popular crowd, she repeats Dani's words from earlier, “Do whatever you want, Scott. It’s not like I need a play-by-play.” 

Scott steps back like she’s hit him and Tessa wants to jump forward and hug him and apologize, but she can see the approval on Dani’s face and hears the laughter of the other kids, and so instead she folds her arms and strikes her best Six Chick pose. A look of disappointment settles on Scott’s face that makes Tessa feel guilty as hell, but she holds her ground. 

“See you, loser.” Dani waves her hand at him, and Scott turns on his heel and leaves. 

“Finally.” She says with an over exaggerated sigh that the other girls laugh at. Tessa attempts a laugh as well, even though her heart is screaming at her to follow Scott and beg for forgiveness. “Hey, I have an idea girls.” Dani looks around the circle with a crooked smile. “Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven. You can go first, Tessa, because it’s your birthday.” 

“Um… how does that one go again?” Tessa asks, embarrassed at her own ignorance of popular games as the other kids snicker at her. 

“Well, you go in the closet, and some lucky guy’s gonna go in there and do whatever he wants with you for seven whole minutes.” Tessa’s cheeks turn pink and she doesn’t dare look at Josh. Dani leans in closer to whisper, “Guess who wants to go first?” 

“Who?” Tessa barely manages to reply, throat constricting in nervous hope. All thoughts of Scott forgotten at the prospect of maybe going into the closet with Josh. 

“Josh. Hodges.” Dani emphasizes each name, smiling at her knowingly as she pulls back, and Tessa can’t help the way her mouth falls open a little bit. “Before I forget though, where’s our project for Miss Measly?” 

“On the table.” Tessa sputters. It was really _her_ project, but giving it away (and having to start over this weekend) was worth it if it meant kissing Josh tonight. 

“Thanks.” Dani replies, then pulls a scarf off of the nearby pile of winter clothes that Tessa’s host mom hadn’t packed away yet. “Remember, no peeking. Keep the blindfold on.” 

Tessa nods solemnly, letting herself be led into the closet and hearing the door click shut behind her. She stands there in the dark, waiting. Counting the seconds and trying to stay calm in the face of all her dreams coming true.

 

She reaches three hundred and seventy-two before the door opens again, and by now her palms have gone sweaty and she’s been periodically wiping them surreptitiously on her pants – hoping that Josh won’t notice.

 “I thought you weren’t going to come.” She says quietly, the corners of her mouth tilting down slightly when she doesn’t get a response. “Where are you?”

 And then there’s a tentative hand on her waist, so much more gentle than she would have expected from Josh – who already had a bit of a reputation. A sigh escapes her as she says, “Oh, Josh.”

 The hand pulls away like its been burned. “It’s not Josh, it’s Scott!” Tessa tears the blindfold off at the sound of his indignant voice. 

“What are you doing here?” She cries out in confusion, not understanding. “Where’s Josh?”

 Scott looks almost just as confused as she does. “He’s gone. Everybody left. The evil hag told me you were waiting for me in here.”

 “What?” She can’t comprehend what he’s saying. How could they have left? Everything was going so well! “What did you _do!?_ ”

 Scott’s arms go up defensively as he shakes his head. “Nothing!”

 “Yes, you did! Get out!” She screams, shoving him with more strength than a scrawny thirteen year old had any right to have. Shocked by her sudden violence, he tries to step back into the closet, but she shoves him away again and slams the door.

 “Tess, come on. Let me talk to you.” He yells through the door, jiggling the handle – which she locks quickly before he can get it open.

 “No! Go away!”

 “Please, kiddo, just come out.” His voice is more coaxing now than yelling, but it just makes Tessa angrier. This has been a _disaster_. The worst birthday she’s ever had. And somehow it’s Scott’s fault. He must have done something to make everyone leave. He always did hate them.

 “I hate you! I hate me! I hate ice dance and this whole life! I just wanna be-“

 “You don’t mean that, come on.” Scott is pleading now, voice cracking a little. 

 Tessa collapses to the floor and buries her face in her hands, repeating to herself, “Thirty, flirty, and thriving.” Not noticing that she’s inhaling the wishing dust that still coats her finger tips.

 

_Thirty, flirty, and thriving. Thirty, flirty, and thriving. Thirty, flirty, and thriving._

 

And then everything goes black.


	2. Turned Upside Down

Awareness comes slowly as Tessa wakes up that morning. She’d been having the weirdest dream – full of swirling rainbow lights and glimpses of people and events she didn’t recognize. A dull ache throbs at the base of her head and  with a groan she rolls over - considering for one brief moment calling in sick for both skating practice and school and staying in this nice warm cocoon of blankets instead. But Scott wouldn't forgive her for bailing. Honestly, she is a little surprised her alarm hasn't gone off yet. Surely it must be nearly time for her to head to the rink.

Reluctantly, she opens her eyes.

 

And promptly screams.

 

This is NOT her bedroom. She’s in a giant king-size bed with a poofy white and grey patterned duvet, in a white and grey room with dark paneled flooring, and two of the walls are made completely of floor-to-ceiling windows – although currently covered by retractable blinds. There are no pictures on the walls – nothing to tell her whose room this _actually_  is. She nearly trips and falls on her butt in her haste to untangle herself and stand up. 

“What is going on?” She says aloud, panic lacing her voice. “Mom? Dad?” She tries calling out, but gets no response. As she walks to what she hopes is the bedroom door, she passes a tall floor-length mirror and another shriek leaves her body.

Across from her stands an older woman – dark hair, much darker than her natural color, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, a little messy from sleeping. She’s clearly physically fit, and Tessa can't resist running her hands over the newly discovered curves. The black silk negligee she’s wearing barely skirts the top of her thighs. Tessa steps in to get a closer look, almost expecting the mirror woman _not_ to move (because surely that beautiful adult woman isn’t _HER_ ), but of course she does – right until Tessa is almost nose-to-nose with the reflection. From this distance, Tessa can see the freckles still scattered across her skin and the bright green eyes, and it’s this more than anything that convinces her she’s somehow looking at herself.

“What is _happening_?” She mutters, pinching herself to make sure this isn’t some crazy dream.

She finds her way into the next room – a large open living area with more of the same white and grey color theme and another wall made completely of glass. The only variation is a yellow throw pillow and black rug. The windows in this room aren’t covered and Tessa can see the morning light dawning over … "Toronto. I'm in Toronto.” It takes her a moment, but she recognizes the city from a trip she’d taken with her mom and Jordan last summer. “At least I’m not too far from home.” She sighs in relief.

There’s a stack of mail on the coffee table and she picks it up, reading the address labels. They’re all the same: Tessa Virtue 224 King Street West, #4701. “I guess this must be my apartment...?” She says to herself, voice tilting up in confusion.

She can hear a phone ringing back in the bedroom, so she drops the mail and heads back in that direction, finding a very fancy white rectangular thing on her nightstand that doesn’t look anything like the cell phones she’d seen other people carrying around her school. A picture lights up the screen of an unnaturally blonde woman with sharp features standing next to Tessa as they both give the photographer scathing looks. The name _Elle_ in bold letters at the top.

Thankfully, the phone seems pretty intuitive – a big red button to hang up and a big green one to answer. Tessa presses the red one and then tries to figure out how to make a phone call – a little noise of pleasant surprise leaving her throat when the round button at the bottom seems to recognize her thumbprint. Right in the middle of the screen there’s a calendar icon that says May 18, so at least something makes sense, but when Tessa taps on it she about falls to the floor in shock.

 

_Saturday May 18, 2019_

 

It stares at her in simple black letters. Tessa stares back uncomprehendingly. That just can’t be right. Panicking in earnest now, she clicks on the green phone icon, thinking only _call mom call mom call mom_. 

“Babe, do you have any more toothpaste? You’re all out in here.” 

For the third time that morning, Tessa screams. A man is standing there in the doorway of her bathroom clad in nothing more than a towel and holding up a toothbrush – looking at her as if she’s the one who’s lost her mind. The thought that maybe she  _has_ lost her mind flits briefly through her brain as she tries to understand why a strange man is asking her for toothpaste. 

“Whoa, sorry babe, didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles, and Tessa can’t help but notice the way his pecs and abs flex during the motion. She can’t deny that he’s good looking – short brown hair, dark eyes, nice smile – but he’s still _naked_ and she doesn’t know who the hell he is. “Seriously though, toothpaste?” He holds up his brush, expecting an answer, and Tessa finds herself replying.

 “Um… under the sink?” She has no idea if that’s the right answer, but it sounds like somewhere people might keep extra dental supplies. “You’re naked.” It slips out, she hadn’t meant to comment on that part, hoping instead to quietly slip out of the room and get to her parent’s house as quickly as possible. Running, if need be.

 “Well, not yet, but soon. You can join me if you want.” He moves to take off the towel and Tessa throws up a hand to cover her eyes.

 “No. No no no no. I have to go.” Scrambling, she picks up the phone and the first pair of shoes she sees – strappy little black heels – and runs out of the bedroom, ignoring the man’s calls for her to come back so that he can “Start her morning right.”

 “Ew ew ew.” Is all she can seem to say, intermingled with the occasional _yuck_ and _no_. She finds a purse on the entryway shelf and prays it has her house keys inside in case her parents aren’t there when she arrives, and a sleek black knee-length lightweight coat, which she puts on before running out the door.

 

It’s a long elevator ride down from the penthouse and Tessa is relieved when she finally escapes out onto the bustling Toronto street below. It’s beautifully sunny and any other morning Tessa might enjoy it. As it is, the warm, fresh air does help to calm her racing heart a little bit. Breathing a sigh of relief, she opens the purse to find keys and a wallet, and inside that a few credit cards bearing her name. "Good" she thinks, "hopefully there’s enough money on one of these to get me to London." 

“Tessa! Oh my god, _finally_.” Tessa recognizes the blonde woman from the picture on her phone as she steps out of a sleek black car. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Michel called an emergency staff meeting. Didn’t you get the message?”

Tessa looks around, hoping that the woman was talking to someone other than herself, but her hopes are dashed when the woman marches up and takes her by the arm. “The slip dress is a little old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

She lets herself be lead into the car, sliding into the backseat followed quickly by the blonde who’s already talking a mile a minute. “Hamish is already up my ass this morning complaining about our celebrity line-up for the party. I swear to god if he doesn’t chill for like five seconds – I mean, we’ve got Jennifer Lawrence coming _and_ Emma Stone. Michel’s going to have an aneurism over this whole opening, I swear.”

“Who?” Tessa cuts in, starting to think maybe she shouldn’t have gotten into the back of this car with a stranger, being driven to god knows where.

“Seriously, what is up with you this morning?” She looks at Tessa for a moment, before her eyes go wide. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant.”

“What?” Tessa shrieks. “No! No way.”

She places a hand over her heart and lets out a sigh. “Thank god. You scared me. What did you do last night? Is this the result of a bad hangover?”

“No…” Tessa pauses, considering her headache, “At least, I don’t think so. Maybe?” She’s never had alcohol before. At least, not that she can remember. Maybe hangovers _can_ make you just… forget the last seventeen years? “Something really strange is happening. I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, there was a naked stranger in my bathroom –“

“Sounds like a good night.” The blonde winks and steps out of the car after it rolls to a stop and Tessa has no choice but to follow.

“I don’t think you’re listening. Last night, I was thirteen, but this morning I’m thirty-“

“Tess, if you’re about to get all poetic and sentimental about how fleeting time is, I don’t want to hear it this morning, okay? It's way too early for that.”

“Wait-“ But before she can continue, the phone in her purse starts to ring. Pulling it out, she sees a picture of the guy from earlier. In the picture he's shirtless and lying in a bed, and Tessa blushes – nearly throwing the device and its inappropriate image away. The name at the top says Tyler B. with some sort of little purple vegetable cartoon. She hurries and ends the call before anyone else can see and puts the phone back in her purse.

“Come on!” The other woman beckons impatiently and Tessa chases after her into a sleek modern building. Inside is a wall with big silver letters spelling out VOGUE and Tessa stops in her tracks.

“I work here?” She receives only another exasperated sigh in response and a tug at her arm as she's forcibly pulled over to the elevators and up to the third floor executive offices. It’s all very sleek and modern and Tessa takes it in with wide eyes.

“There’s the dynamic duo! I trust my executive editors are late because they were out promoting us at all the right parties.” A man with a thick French accent, dressed in a clearly expensive suit, leans in and gives Tessa two air kisses, which she is too surprised by to return in time. “Love the retro look, darling.” He gestures to her outfit and Tessa blushes.

“Good morning, Michel.” The blonde says as they follow him into an office where a few other people are seated around an oval table and Tessa sits down. The blonde woman opens up a portfolio with a pad of paper inside, uncapping a pen and preparing to write, and Tessa feels woefully unprepared for whatever is about to happen. She is relieved, however, to spot the woman's business card tucked inside the side pocket of the folder: Danielle Pratt.

Oh! _Oh!_ Suddenly Tessa realizes she recognizes the woman she’s been talking to all morning. The same Elle from earlier on her phone. Dani Pratt from school! The realization sends her reeling. They’re friends! And they work together! At Vogue! A grin unintentionally spreads across Tessa’s face.

“Something amusing, Miss Virtue?” Michel asks, pausing mid-sentence, and Tessa realizes she hasn’t heard a word he’s said.

“No, sorry.” She ducks her head like a chastised student, hiding a little behind Dani, (no, _Elle_ ) in defense.

“As I was saying, our grand opening party is in a week and Hamish is concerned that we won’t be ready in time. It needs to be the event of the season. Of the whole country. Vogue has never had an office in Canada before – this is a big deal.”

“We know that, Michel.” Elle cuts in. “We already have a great celebrity line-up and a DJ and L’eat Catering is doing the food. And we’ve made sure they’re sending some certified sommeliers to help guests select wine pairings to go with their meals. Everything is ready.”

“Hamish says we need to branch out our guest list. Find some people other than models and actresses – hopefully Canadian celebrities.”

"Canada has celebrities?" Someone else with a French accent jokes, and everyone around the table chuckles. 

“Tessa’s dating Tyler Bozak from the Maple Leafs, I’m sure he’ll come.” Elle offers up, and Tessa nearly chokes.  _She is?_

“Brilliant. Have him bring along some of his teammates. The good ones.” Michel nods, moving on to hear other suggestions from other people.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tessa whispers to Elle. “I don’t really know him that well and…”

“Tess, you’ve been seeing the guy for two years. If you can’t ask him to come to a party, something isn’t right.” She dismisses, turning her head back to their boss.

 "That's what I've been trying to tell you." Tessa wants to say, but she bites her tongue as their boss continues speaking. 

This has been arguably the craziest morning of Tessa’s entire life. Up until now, the craziest things she’d ever experienced were mad-dashes to skating rinks, the intense feelings of terror going into a competition, and a rather unpleasant rollercoaster ride that her brothers forced her to go on when she was seven. She feels lost in a stupor – somehow in the blink of an eye she’s woken up in a world where she lives in a fancy Toronto apartment, is dating a hockey player, and works as an editor for Vogue. It’s enough to make her feel like fainting.

 

“Are you coming, Tess? It’s over. Let’s go get brunch.” Elle taps her on the shoulder before exiting the conference room. Tessa had missed the entire end of the meeting, but she doesn’t really care. The good student in her being smothered by the intense need to talk to someone she trusts and try to make sense of this whole thing. 

She follows Elle out of the room and down the hallway until she passes a glass door with her name etched into a plaque on the wall beside it. It takes her a moment to adjust to seeing “Tessa Virtue: Executive Editor” in printed letters on the wall. 

“Miss Virtue?” A mousy woman with wide-framed glasses walks up to her from the desk closes to Tessa’s office door, almost cowering. “I have your messages. Do you want them now or on Monday?” 

“Oh, um… now is fine I guess.” Tessa replies, glancing over at the woman’s desk and seeing _Samantha Barns: Executive Assistant_ on the side of the cubicle. “Thanks, Samantha.” 

The woman looks momentarily taken aback, as if she wasn’t expecting anything kind to come out of Tessa’s mouth. She stutters as she holds up the notecards and says, “Alright… Mr. Bowles called to complain about Miss Pratt’s attitude regarding the party, Tom Cruise’s assistant said he can do the interview next Wednesday, but it will have to be over the phone, Mrs. Nickerson wants to discuss the Fall style line, your sister called to –“ 

Tessa cuts her off, “My sister? Oh, why didn’t you tell me that one first?” 

Samantha looks around nervously, “You told me never to bother you with family things.” 

This comes as a genuine surprise to Tessa. She has no idea who the thirty year old version of herself is, but family had always been important to her. The most important thing. “I did? Why would I say that? What did Jordan want?” 

Her assistant hastily brings up the notecard again, reading carefully from it, “She said, ‘Thanks for the French press coffee machine. It was a nice wedding gift, but it would have been better if you had actually shown up.” She stutters again on the last part of the message. 

“Jordan’s married? And I missed the wedding?” Tessa takes a step back, floored at this latest revelation. 

“It was last week. You were in Paris.” Samantha offers, before shrinking back as if she’s afraid she’s said too much. 

“Oh. I guess… I must have forgotten.” Tessa murmurs, mostly to herself, wondering how on earth that could have happened. What could be more important than her sister’s wedding? “Did she say to call her back?”

“I think she’s on her honeymoon now.” Samantha says, and Tessa nods in disappointment. _Guess that rules out Jordan as an emergency call today_.

“Thank you.” She smiles warmly at her assistant, hoping to quell whatever it is that’s making her nervous, and the woman gives her a shaky smile back.

Tessa steps into her office, noticing the pictures scattered across the walls of her with various celebrities and people she doesn’t know. There’s a frame on her desk with a picture of her and the guy, Tyler, that she's apparently dating dressed in matching Maple Leafs jerseys. Falling into a heap on her chair, she pulls out her cell phone and dials her parent’s home number. Disappointment floods her body as the answering machine picks up. 

“Mom, it’s me, Tessa. Something really weird is happening and I need to talk to you right away. Please call me.” 

She hangs up and stares at her phone. The picture on the background is one of a vase of pink peonies, and Tessa thinks of yesterday – her yesterday – when Scott gave her a stolen peony as a birthday present. 

Scott! How had she not thought of him sooner? In a rush Tessa taps on the phone icon and scrolls through the contact list, not recognizing hardly any of the names, before she reaches the S category. It takes about a second for her to realize it’s sorted by last name, so she scrolls back up to the M’s. 

But there isn’t a single Moir there. Not Alma or Joe or Danny or Charlie. No Scott. “That can’t be right.” Tessa mutters to herself. Surely if she had a cell phone, she would have saved their numbers. 

“Samantha!” She calls out and is greeted half a second later by a whirlwind as the woman flies into her office. 

“Yes, Miss Virtue?” 

“I need you to help me find somebody. A friend of mine. I seem to have lost his number.” 

“Of course.” She clicks her pen and holds up the notepad she brought in with her, ready and waiting for the name. 

“His name is Scott Moir. He’s from a little town west of here called Ilderton.” She begins, but is interrupted by Susan’s questioning glance. 

“Scott Moir the Olympian?” 

“What?” Tessa tilts her head. 

“The two time Olympic ice dancer? I didn’t realize you knew him.” 

Tessa can’t think of a single thing to say. Scott is an Olympian? Scott is an Olympian and she _is_ _n’t_? He skated without her? 

“We… were friends as kids.” She explains in a far-off voice, earning a questioning look from Samantha. 

“And now you want to invite him to the party next week?” The assistant says after a moment, sounding as if she’s just worked out a puzzle. “Of course, Miss Virtue. I’ll see if I can get his information.” 

She steps back out of the office, closing the door and leaving Tessa to sit there in a world that has ceased to make any sort of sense to her. How could he have gone to the Olympics without her? They were partners. It just didn’t make any sense. 

Samantha walks back into the room a few minutes later, smiling widely. “You’re in luck. I did some digging and found his contact information. He hasn’t made many public appearances since Sochi, though." She pauses to see if Tessa wants to say something, but the name doesn't mean anything to her. She nods for Samantha to continue. "He lives in London and works for his family’s skate shop and teaches some junior level ice dancing classes. Here’s his number and the address of the store.” She reaches out and hands Tessa a little slip of paper.

Tessa stares at the little letters and numbers for what feels like hours, but is only a couple of seconds. “Thank you, Samantha.” 

After the other woman leaves Tessa carefully enters Scott’s number into the her phone. The ringing feels like canons booming in her ear as she waits to hear his voice. 

“Hey, it’s Scott-“ 

“Scott!” 

“-unavailable right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

A beep sounds and Tessa scrambles for something to say. “Um… Hi Scott, it’s Tess. I really need to talk to you…” Her voice trails off. A phone call isn’t what she needs. She needs to see his face and for him to hug her and tell her everything will be alright. She needs their pre-skate ritual where he could always, always calm her down.

 

Decision made, she hangs up the phone and stands up. She’s going to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The address is a real apartment I found online in Toronto. It looked super fancy and felt right for the alternate version of Tessa who's a big-time executive.
> 
> Tyler Bozak is a real player for the Leafs. I borrowed his name and appearance, but everything else is obviously fabricated.


	3. Stranger that I Used to Know

First things first, Tessa needs to change. There’s absolutely no way she’s showing up at Scott’s door dressed in nothing but a little lace pajama slip. She wants him to hug her, not laugh in her face.

She tries calling her mom again during the car ride back to her apartment building, but again there’s no answer. She can see a red number next to her messages icon and so she taps on it – pulling up a list of unread texts that include one from her mom informing her that she was going to be out of town on a visit to see her brother Kevin and wouldn’t be back for a week or two. Tessa scrolls up to see that most of her mother’s texts have gone unanswered, and they are few and far between. All of them perfunctory messages that Kate apparently thought would be useful for Tessa to know, but nothing personal. Tessa wonders if that's just how texting is, surely she and her mom are still close? Pushing the thought away, Tessa re-focuses on the task at hand.

When she arrives at her building she creeps back into her apartment – walking as silently as she can on her tiptoes. A skill she’d mastered after all the early mornings leaving her host parent’s house to skate (she didn’t want to wake them up or be a nuisance). The apartment appears to be vacant, and Tessa breathes a sigh of relief. The last thing she needs is to have to deal with Naked Guy again.

Excitement at being alone sends goosebumps across her arms. She hadn’t had any time that morning to explore, and upon further examination she decides she loves the apartment. She can see why Adult-Tessa chose to live here, even if she still can’t understand why it seems so impersonal. The view over the city is magnificent and her balcony has a hot-tub _and_ a little putting green.

Getting to know the apartment is a little bit like getting to know herself. Adult-Tessa’s likes and dislikes and habits. So far Tessa has discovered that the other her is meticulously clean and organized, loves to read, and must never eat because her fridge contains nothing but eggs and a few breakfast shakes.

 

When she reaches the bedroom and opens the closet door it’s like she’s Dorothy stepping into Oz for the first time. Her black-and-white world bursting into color at the sight of all the _clothes_. Rows and rows and rows of the most beautiful blouses and dresses Tessa has ever seen. And the pièce de résistance – the entire back wall is covered in shelves of shoes. Her hands clasp together in front of her chest as she lets out a little squeal of joy. “I love you, Adult-Me.” She sighs, hugging a pair of Manolo Blahniks.

“Okay, time to get serious.” She gives herself a firm nod and starts looking for the right thing to wear to see Scott. It doesn’t seem right to show up in a fancy dress and shoes, however much she might gravitate to those items, so she starts digging through some of the drawers.

Eventually she comes up with a comfy, lightweight white sweater and some jeans – although it takes her a minute dancing and shimmying around in the pants to get comfortable. Somewhere along the years people apparently had decided to cinch them in around the calves and it’s a feeling totally foreign to Tessa. She finds a pair of beat up sneakers in the back corner and puts them on. A little make-up and a quick brush of her hair to make it more presentable, and Tessa feels ready to go.

 

\---------- 

 

It’s a two hour ride to London from her apartment - the taxi fee is astronomical - but her credit card seems to have no problem accepting the charge (thankfully, otherwise that would have been an awkward conversation).

“Can you wait here?” She asks the driver as she steps out of the car in front of Moir’s Skate Shop. A plain cement building on the south side of town.

“Sure. But I’ll have to keep the meter running.”

“That’s fine. I just need a minute to see if this is the right place.”

He nods and Tessa turns around, her steps feeling like lead as she walks towards the door.

A gust of cold air hits her as she walks in under the A/C unit fixed above the door, which seems a little premature in May, but Tessa just tugs her sleeves down a little and makes her way towards the counter. The woman behind it is unloading something from a box, and it takes a minute before Tessa works up the nerve to clear her throat and get her attention.

She spins around quickly at the sound of Tessa’s voice, and Tessa instantly recognizes Scott's mom. “Oh, I’m so sor-Tessa?” She looks genuinely surprised to see her – like it’s the last thing she ever expected in the world – and not in a good way. After the initial shock fades her expression cools into something akin to disdain (as much as sweet Alma Moir’s face _can_ look that way).

It throws Tessa for a loop. She’d always thought Alma liked her, but now she feels like a fly Alma thought she’d swatted, only to find has returned to bother her once more.

“Um… Hi, Mrs. Moir. Is Scott here by chance?”

“No.” She doesn’t offer up any more information, and Tessa shifts her weight back and forth on her feet, hesitating under her sharp eyes.

“Do… Do you know where I can find him? It’s important.”

Alma gives her a long, appraising look and for one brief moment Tessa worries that she might keep the location of her son a secret, but then she finally replies, “He lives across town. Here.” She grabs a slip of paper and scribbles something down on it before holding it out for Tessa to take. 

“Thank you!” Tessa exclaims in relief, a wide smile spreading across her face and the urge to hug Alma causing her to lift her arms slightly before she can stop herself. Both the smile and her arms drop quickly when Alma doesn’t reciprocate. “I’ll just be going then.” She shrugs awkwardly and turns to go.

“Tessa.” Alma calls after her. “I hope you’re not here to cause trouble.” There’s a distinct warning in her voice that makes Tessa’s blood turn cold.

“No. I’m just here to see Scott.” She promises – throat going dry. What on earth had Other-Tessa done to make Alma react to her that way?

 

Back in the taxi, Tessa spends the ride to Scott’s house feeling faintly nauseated. Where before she had been all nervous anticipation, now she was full of anxious dread. Alma’s reaction to seeing her implied that something wasn’t right between her and at least one of the Moirs – maybe seeing Scott wasn’t going to go as she hoped.

 

\----------- 

 

The address Alma gave her belonged to a brown brick two story home with a covered porch and a well-manicured lawn. It still weirded Tessa out that Scott was old enough to be a homeowner, even though she knew he was thirty-one now. She owed him a serious backlog of birthday presents.

“Do you want me to wait again?” The driver asks as she reaches for the door handle.

“No, that’s alright. I hope to be here for a while.” She takes his company card just in case before exiting the car. 

She walks up the steps to the front door and lets her hand hang in mid-air. Knuckles poised to knock as soon as she gives the command, but she can’t seem to make her brain do it. Her heart is beating like a hummingbird’s wings and it’s all she can do not to run away.

“Come on, Tess. You are a junior level winning ice dancer! And, apparently, a big time magazine editor. This is Scott. _Scott_. He’s going to be happy to see you.” She mutters to herself before shaking her body a little and letting her hand fall against the door before she can chicken out again.

Tessa waits and nothing happens – no sign of life on the inside. She knocks again, but there's still no answer. Just as she’s decided he must not be home, she hears someone walking towards the door. With a big smile plastered across her face, she prepares to greet her best friend.

 

The door swings open and a man with thick, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and a sharp jawline greets her. Objectively, Tessa knows that Scott is an adult now too, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. He looks at her without speaking, one hand on the handle and the other propped up on the frame – looking casual in a black t-shirt and jeans – and Tessa doesn’t know what to say. All rational thought seems to have left her mind.

He looks so grown up. No trace of the goofy boy she's always known. He's tall and lean and muscular and  _handsome_. A thought Tessa quickly banishes out of habit. She can do nothing but stare as she waits for him to say something. 

Finally he opens his mouth. “Tessa Virtue. What the hell are you doing here?” There’s a bite to his voice that she’s never heard before in her life, and it makes her flinch.

“Hi, Scott. I tried calling – did you get my message? I really need to talk to you.” The words spill out of her all at once as she tries to get him to make any other expression than the angry and flabbergasted look he’s giving her now.

“You want to talk.” It’s a statement, not a question, and he looks at her like she’s crazy.

“Yes. Please.” She nods emphatically, feeling awkward as she stares at him across the threshold.

“Now. You want to talk now. After fourteen years.”

Tessa’s mind can’t wrap itself around that sentence. _Fourteen years? FOURTEEN?_ She’s still standing there with her mouth agape when he steps back, gesturing widely with his arm for her to enter.

“Sure. Why the hell not? I mean, God knows what you could have to say to me, but sure. Come on in.” He steps back and Tessa walks inside mutely, not sure how to navigate this side of Scott. She’s never had an argument with him. Not a _real_ argument. And she’s completely out of her depth. 

“You have a lovely home.” She manages to eke out, voice sounding weirdly high-pitched and quiet at the same time. He snorts from behind her where he’s shutting the door. 

“Thanks. Danny and Charlie helped me remodel it, and I hired an interior designer to help with the inside, obviously, since I have no taste.” He says the last part with a bitterness that speaks of old wounds, and Tessa wonders what happened to him in the last seventeen years. 

The inside is a beautiful blend of various shades of whites and browns, warm and welcoming, with lots of art on the walls and scattered pictures of his family. Tessa takes it all in, comparing the way his house feels so lived in as opposed to her Toronto apartment. 

“I like it. It looks really good.” She states simply, noticing the way his shoulders relax slightly at her compliment . 

“What are you doing here, Tessa?” He asks again, this time a little softer, and Tessa remembers how her life has imploded and opens up to him.

“Something really weird is happening. Yesterday was my thirteenth birthday and then this morning I woke up and I’m this.” She gestures to her body and Scott’s eyes follow the motion of her hand before glancing away, ears turning pink, (and Tessa wants to ponder that reaction, but she doesn’t have the time right now), “And you’re _that_.” She points to his body and he looks down at it, before looking back at her like she’s speaking gibberish. “You get it?”

“… Are you high?” He looks genuinely baffled, and Tessa drops down on his couch with a slump.

“No I’m not high! I was sitting in my closet and then I skipped everything. I mean, it’s like this crazy dream, Scott! I can’t remember my life!” Her eyes shoot to his, locking his gaze with hers, as she pleads, “You need to help me remember my life!”

He sits down on the armchair across from her and shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry you’ve got... amnesia or a concussion or whatever it is that’s going on, but-“

“What do you mean you can’t? Why not?” Tessa demands, sitting up straight and using her bossy voice. The one that always made Scott stand at attention when they were at the rink and he was goofing off.

“I don’t know anything about you. I haven’t seen you since you were sixteen.” He looks away, like it’s something he’s a little ashamed to admit, but there’s anger in his voice too.

“What? I don’t understand.” Tessa feels like her world is closing in around her – the walls moving in tighter and tighter as her brain fails to comprehend what he’s saying.

“We’re not friends anymore.”

“Scott, you’re my best friend.” Tessa protests – voice sounding scratchy and distant.

“No. I'm not.” He states firmly and stands back up.

 

 

Tessa’s first ever panic attack happens in the living room of her best friend/adult stranger’s house in a suburb of London, Ontario. Her vision starts going black around the edges and her chest heaves as it tries to catch a breath that never seems to come. From a distance, she can hear herself freaking out, but she can’t seem to do anything to stop it.

“It’s fine. Tess. Tess? Are you okay?” Scott’s voice sounds distant to her – like she’s underwater and he’s yelling at her from the surface. She desperately wants to swim to his voice, but her limbs are no longer under her control.

Suddenly she feels his strong, masculine arms wrapping around her and his chest pressed tightly to her own. His slow, deep breaths push against her body, mouth huffing air in and out next to her ear - slowly bring her back to reality as she focuses on syncing her breaths with his. Following his guidance as he instructs her to "breathe, just breathe."

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he leans back and looks at her. “Are you okay now?”

Tessa nods slowly, her breathing finally under control. “Can I have some water?”

“Sure, kiddo.” His eyes go wide in surprise at his use of the nickname, but the sound warms Tessa’s heart and she smiles softly at him. He jumps to his feet, backing away quickly and mumbling something about coming right back before turning and practically running into the kitchen.

While he’s gone Tessa tries to come to terms with what he’s said, but the concept is entirely foreign to her. In no world can she imagine not being friends with Scott. It’s antithetical to her entire being.

He re-enters the living room, handing her the glass of water before sitting back down across from her. Watching her with an inscrutable expression as she drinks the water down a couple quick gulps. “Tess, I think you need to go home.”

“I don’t want to go back to Toronto. I don’t know anybody there.”

“Your mom’s house then. I think she got the house in the divorce.” He drops this bomb so casually that it nearly sends Tessa reeling into another panic attack.

“My parents are _divorced_?” She practically yells, shooting up from the couch. Scott looks up at her in alarm, clearly not anticipating her reaction.

“You really don’t remember anything, do you? They divorced a long time ago, like probably ten years. I’m sorry… to have to be the one to tell you.”

She sits back down, feeling utterly defeated. Nothing about this day has gone as planned. Yesterday her Saturday plans had been to see the new Spider-Man movie with Scott and load up on chocolate ice cream. Now nothing in her life makes any sense.

“I just wish I could remember _something_.” Tessa mutters, burying her face in her hands.

“Hang on. I might have something that can help.”

She hears Scott leave the room, but can’t be bothered to lift her face – too focused on trying not to cry. The sound of something sliding across the coffee table in front of her convinces her to peek between her fingers.

“A yearbook?” She asks, looking up at Scott. He nods and flips it open. “The last one I got before I left Kitchener-Waterloo. You’re in here more than me, maybe it’ll help jog your memory.”

Tessa pulls the book into her lap and starts going through it – first finding her own name and student photo. She was a couple years older, and apparently had gotten the hang of how to take a decent photograph. After that she found Scott, giggling a little at his grim expression.

“I didn’t have a lot to be happy about.” He grumbles next to her, and that sobers Tessa back up. She wants to ask him about it, but his face sends a clear warning that he doesn’t want her to push, so she refocuses on finding pictures of herself.

There are a lot of them, just as Scott said. Pictures of her with the same group of girls scattered throughout the book at various school functions, and Tessa grins as she realizes she became one of the Six Chicks. In a few of them she and Dani/Elle are hugging tightly and on the class “Most Likely Page” they were voted “Most Likely to be Friends Forever.”

Next to that is a picture of her with Josh Hodges under the title “Cutest Couple.”

“Wow.” Tessa whispers, fingers stroking the page. “I was popular. I dated _Josh_. Holy crap. I got everything that I wanted.”

“Yeah, Tessa, you got it all. Congratulations.” Tessa looks over at Scott to find his brow furrowed and eyes dark and brooding.

She wants to ask him about them, skating, the Olympics, all of it, but her phone starts ringing and the moment passes. She can see Elle’s name on the screen and she answers the call.

“Tessa, please tell me you ditched brunch and disappeared all day so that you could convince your boyfriend and his buddies to come to our party.” The exasperation is evident through the phone, and Tessa immediately feels guilty that she totally forgot about the fact that she has a job.

“Um… I haven’t yet, but I will.”

“Good. We need to really impress Hamish with this guest list and make Michel look good, okay? So don’t forget.”

Tessa promises not to and then hangs up.

“Sounds like you’ve got stuff to do, and I promised Danny I’d help him with a project today so…” Scott's voice trails off, and Tessa understands that it means it’s time for her to go.

She doesn’t want to though. Doesn’t want to leave the safe, if somewhat temperamental and confusing, comfort that Scott's presence provides. But she can tell that things aren’t the same anymore, at least not for him.

“You're right. I should head back to Toronto, I guess.”

He walks her to the door and at the last minute she impulsively turns and hugs him. His arms stay lifted out to the side, but Tessa just squeezes tighter before letting go. “My work is having a grand opening next Friday night. Vogue. I work for Vogue.” She rushes to tell him, the novelty of it nowhere close to fading. “It’s supposed to be pretty amazing I guess. Will you come?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shakes his head, and Tessa deflates a little bit.

“Okay, well if you change your mind and decide you want to come, it’s going to be at our office downtown. It’s got a pretty big main floor that they’re turning into a party space for the night.” She gives him the address and steps over the threshold. Before he can close the door, she turns back to ask him one final question. “Scott, what if this isn’t just a crazy dream? What if all this is real?”

He looks at her for a long moment, the loaded silence stretching between them. “Then you got everything you ever wanted. You might as well enjoy it.”

He closes the door with a sense of finality that leaves Tessa feeling cold despite the afternoon sun. She calls the taxi company again and heads back to Toronto with a grim determination to figure out how to be an adult as quickly as possible. And to figure out just what happened between her and her best friend – because she wants him back. She has to fix whatever it was so that they can be Virtue and Moir again.


	4. Everybody Dance Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments on my story so far. I love reading them <3

Once back in her apartment Tessa ruffles through her kitchen drawers until she finds one full of take-out menus. They’ve all got neat little circles around various dishes – clearly other-Tessa relies on professionals for her sustenance (which explains the empty fridge).

She’s in the mood for Chinese so she picks a few things off the menu and places the order before sitting down on the couch to crack open one of her newly purchased books about magazine editing and the world of fashion while she waits for the food to arrive.

Initially, she is able to stay focused – taking meticulous notes as she reads and making flashcards to help memorize all the new terminology. She had always been a good student, whether it was learning arithmetic or a new step sequence, and she was determined that her new career would be no different. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself come Monday. But when her food arrives it distracts her enough that she decides to indulge herself and do some internet research.

The speed of the internet is almost enough to take Tessa’s breath away. Literally yesterday she’d had to wait while the modem screeched as her host parent’s computer connected to the internet – each page loading in pieces. Now with the tap of her finger on her cell phone she can access anything she wants lightning fast. Modern technology is a gift.

 

First, she looks up a few pop culture things – what’s happened to her favorite celebrities (Jen and Brad broke up!?) and how Buffy ended – before finally googling herself.

The first couple of results are profile pieces about her and Vogue and their new Canadian office, followed by links to interviews she’d done and athletic wear she’d designed. She makes a note of which ones she wants to read that she’ll come back to later. For the moment she’s more curious about something else.

It isn’t until the third page of results that she finds what she’s looking for. A Wikipedia article about the 2006 Canadian Ice Skating Championship that says she and Scott placed third and were named alternates to the Olympic team in Turin, Italy. There are a few articles about their competitions before that, but nothing after January 2006.

There are links to some videos of their routines, and Tessa gets wrapped up in watching them. The first one she chooses to watch is their free dance from the 2006 event.

“My hair is red!” She shouts in surprise, voice echoing around the empty apartment. She’s momentarily distracted by how eighteen year old Scott and sixteen year old Tessa look, but then gets lost in the dance itself. The commentator tells her they chose Valse Triste because it’s one of Tessa’s favorite pieces, and she can see why – the music is beautiful and the two of them flow through it, the dance and melody complimenting each other perfectly.

Their incredible lifts, the way they glide across the ice, their beautiful lines and easy grace – it all fills Tessa with a sense of pride. Once the video ends she shoots a text off to Scott.

**Tessa:** We were so good! 3 rd at Nationals?

She watches as the little chat bubble appears and disappears a few times before she receives a reply.

**Scott:**  Yep. We were fucking amazing.

The question hangs in the air as her thumb hovers over the keyboard. If they were so good, why did they stop? But Tessa can’t bring herself to ask the question. A large part of her is afraid to hear the answer.

Instead she goes to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine – giggling like a naughty school girl sneaking alcohol for the first time. Logically she knows that her body is thirty and has probably had lots of drinks over the years, but for _her_ this is a first.

She carries the glass carefully back to the comfortable sofa where her cocoon of blankets awaits her and settles back in – this time to google Scott Moir.

 

The search brings up a bunch of results – all related to past Olympics. There are links to interviews with him and his partner, articles about their two Olympics, and videos of all their performances. Tessa doesn’t recognize the light brown-haired girl that he’s pictured with, so she clicks on the Wikipedia article about him and reads it aloud.

“Scott Patrick Moir is a Canadian ice dancer. With partner Allie Hann-McCurdy, he won the silver medal at the Vancouver Olympics in 2010, and the bronze medal at the Sochi Olympics in 2014, after which he and his partner retired from competitive skating. He currently lives and works in London, Ontario.”

She quickly skims down the page to see if anything is written about her. The paragraphs are all too short – describing their early years together and success at the junior level – but she reads them slowly and carefully all the same, before reaching the essential information.

“Moir was paired with McCurdy after both of their respective partners decided to leave competitive ice dancing. Moir had contemplated leaving as well, but ultimately decided to move to Canton, Michigan to train under coaches Igor Shpilband and Marina Zueva at the Arctic Edge Ice Arena. It was there that his partnership with McCurdy began, and they soon became crowd favorites and enjoyed success, although Moir was generally recognized to be the better skater of the two.”

Tessa rereads the paragraph three times as if somehow she can glean more information about their split than it initially gives. So she decided to leave – it wasn’t some sort of career ending injury, like she’d suspected, but a simple choice not to continue. That fact takes Tessa by surprise more than anything.  

She moves onto the videos of Scott's Olympic performances – the first of which is the Tango Romantica from Vancouver. After a pause, Tessa decides to skip over that for now and move onto the silver-winning free dance. It’s set to Moonlight Sonata and bile rises in her throat only moments into the program.

He moves beautifully – they both do – full of passion and raw talent, but to Tessa it all rings false. There’s something missing from his program, and the next few programs that she watches as well, and Tessa can’t help but selfishly feel that the missing element is _her_.

Upset and restless, she drops her phone with all its terrible, easy-access information, and decides to take a nice long shower to calm her racing thoughts.

 

The warm water and surrounding white noise eases her tense muscles and once she steps out she’s hit by a wave of exhaustion so hard it nearly knocks her off her feet. This has been easily the hardest and most overwhelming day of her life, and Tessa falls into a deep sleep almost the moment her head hits the pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

When Monday rolls around Tessa feels moderately more prepared for the work week ahead. She had spent all day Sunday reading and quizzing herself, refusing to be sidetracked by trying to learn her past. After-all, if this was to be her life now, it wouldn’t do to get fired her first week into it.

Nothing could have prepared her though for the reality of running a fashion magazine. Every day is busier than the last as she runs in and out of meetings, picks out color combinations and page layouts, and consults on cuts and patterns for the Canadian fall line.

 

That night she gives in to the demands of her boss and makes a very awkward phone call – forced to reach out to Tyler, her supposed boyfriend, like she’d promised to do. She listens to the ringing and pleads to whatever higher power there might be that the call will go to voicemail, but no such luck. He answers on the fourth ring.

“Hey baby. You lonely?” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and Tessa nearly gags.

“Um… No. I have a favor to ask you.”

“Yes, I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue again, but first you have to tell me what you’re wearing.”

Tessa does not want to know what _thing_ he is referring to, and can feel her face flooding with heated embarrassment. “No.” She cuts in before he can say something else mortifying. “I need to ask you to be one of our Canadian celebrity guests at the grand opening of Vogue: Toronto on Friday. You and some of your other teammates. Whoever can make it.”

“Sure thing, sugar queen.” He agrees easily, and Tessa sighs in relief. “Maybe while we’re at the party we can sneak into your office and-“

Tessa doesn’t give him the chance to finish. Hanging up the phone, she drops it onto her bed and grabs a book to go read on her balcony. There’s a beautiful sunset casting red and pink streaks across the sky, and she refuses to let it be tainted by some guy’s attempt at … dirty talk. She’ll have to find a way to avoid him as much as possible at the party, and... maybe break up with him altogether. He's probably a great guy, but the Tessa who is still thirteen is  _not_ ready to be in an adult relationship.  

 

She texts Scott periodically throughout the week. Sometimes he replies, but often she doesn’t hear back from him. It’s incredibly disappointing, but she’s determined not to give up. He always complained about how stubborn she was – well, now he was going to find out just how true that could be.

 

By the time Friday finally arrives the office is overwhelmed by hectic energy. Everyone can feel the pressure for the night to be perfect.

“Alright, final checks. Are we absolutely certain everything is ready for tonight?” Michel has gathered everyone into the main conference room and is currently giving them an intimidating glare one by one. Everyone confirms that they’re ready for the opening that night, including Tessa. She’s not entirely sure what her job tonight is supposed to be, but she thinks it’s mostly _networking_.

She had googled most of the names that people were throwing around, learning that the Hamish Elle seemed to dislike so much was the International Editor at Large of the company, and Jennifer Lawrence and Emma Stone were popular actresses. Tessa was currently reading _The Hunger Games_ right now in case the subject came up tonight, and had watched La La Land on Wednesday.

“Okay so I’ll be by to pick you up in the limo at seven. Be sure you’re ready by then.” Elle says to her as they walk out of the office together that afternoon, both leaving a little early to get dressed for the party.

“The limo? We’re taking a limo?” Tessa asks with undisguised glee. Elle gives her an unamused look – like she’s being completely childish.

“Yes, of course a limo. Seven o’clock.”

Tessa drops her smile and nods, trying to be serious - watching Elle step into a taxi before turning to her own.

 

She does take preparing for the party very seriously, however – showering, carefully shaving, making sure her eyebrows are neatly trimmed, and meticulously blow-drying her hair. Once all of that is complete, she walks into her closet dressed in a fluffy white robe and tries to decide on an outfit.

She tries a few different options – a floor length glittery ball gown, a pantsuit, and a few different cocktail dresses, before ultimately deciding on a knee length pale pink dress with tiny spaghetti straps and a slit up the thigh. It seems like the perfect compromise between classy and sexy, and, more importantly, the slit in the thigh will give her flexibility to dance should the opportunity arise. And she hopes it does.

Pulling her hair up into a neat chignon (thank god for ice dance and having to learn fancy hairstyles at a young age) she pins it into place before completing the finishing touches on her make-up. A final look in the mirror leaves her satisfied that she won’t be an embarrassment to Vogue, and with an encouraging nod to herself she grabs a pair of pointy-toed stilettos and her clutch and heads down to the lobby – terrified of being late and getting yelled at by Elle.

 

\---------

 

As soon as they arrive Elle leads Tessa over to the bar.

“Anything to drink, ladies?” The bartender gives them a friendly smile, gesturing to the veritable wall of alcohol behind him. “I can make anything that you like.”

“An apple martini.” Elle says dismissively, not returning his smile. Tessa tries to make up for her friend's behavior by adopting an overly-friendly attitude. 

“Can I have a strawberry daiquiri please?” She asks a little nervously. “Non-virgin. Do you need my I.D.?”

The man laughs. “No, that’s alright. Strawberry daiquiri, coming right up.” He winks and Tessa feels warm all over. So far this party is going pretty well.

“Ladies! There you two are.” Michel smiles as he walks over to greet them, giving them both air-kisses that Tessa now knows to expect and reciprocate. “Splendid turnout, don’t you think?” He gestures to the crowded room around them, and both Tessa and Elle make sound of agreement – nodding their heads.

“Yes, yes, it’s marvelous.” He’s smiling at the crowd, but then he turns back to them with a glare. “But nobody looks like they’re having _fun_.”

“I’m sure it’s fine-“ Elle begins, but is quickly cut off by the scathing look Michel gives her for disagreeing with him.

“Well… nobody is dancing.” Tessa offers quietly, sipping on her drink and noticing the empty dance floor . If you ask her, she knows why. Admittedly, she’s not familiar with the popular music of 2019, but whatever the DJ is playing – a series of thumping and electronic noises that offend her taste – seems impossible to move to. How can they expect people to dance to something so lacking in melody?

“Any suggestions?” Michel asks impatiently.

“Play something a little more… familiar? Everyone loves a waltz.”

“Oh do they?” Elle asks sarcastically from beside her, but Tessa pays her no mind. She’s just spotted a familiar head of dark hair across the room.

“I’ll be right back.” She sets her drink down and weaves her way through the swaths of people, bumping into a red-headed woman that’s making the crowd around her roll with laughter.

She finds Scott standing uncomfortably in the corner looking at the hors d’oeuvre in his hand like it’s a strange specimen he can't make heads or tails of.

“Scott! You came!” She appears in front of him a little breathless, probably smiling like a maniac, but she can’t help herself.

“Yeah… couldn’t resist seeing what all the fuss was about, I guess.” He’s dressed in a simple suit with a white button up shirt. It’s hardly the nicest outfit in the world, but to Tessa he’s the best looking man in the room simply because he's Scott. Her heart swells three sizes just from being in his proximity.

“This is so great. I’m so glad you’re here. Come dance with me.” She grabs his hand, ignoring his protests as she drags him across the floor to the DJ and demands something a little more classic. The DJ looks at her like she’s insane, but she’s insistent and he finally caves in.

“What are you doing?” Scott mutters as she leads him onto the dance floor, looking around at all the people who are watching them curiously.

“Mixing things up a little. You remember how to do this, right?” She teases him as they take their starting positions for a foxtrot and wait for the music to begin.

“Yes. Do you?” His eyes flash in challenge, and Tessa smirks at him.

“Like it was yesterday.”

The notes of an updated version of the song LOVE begin and she and Scott begin gliding across the dance floor, spinning around, and Tessa can’t help smiling and laughing as they dance. It takes a minute, but eventually Scott’s annoyed expression drops and he smiles back at her – getting caught up in the movements.

Tessa can hear people chatting and clapping, and after a moment a few couples join in. Soon the whole dance floor is full of people – some doing the foxtrot and others a more simplified waltz or sway, but all of them having a good time.

She walks in a circle around Scott, as the dance dictates, dragging a hand across his chest and back, and when she returns to stand in front of him the look he gives her sends tingles up her spine. Tessa isn’t used to adult-Scott at all, but she finds she likes the way he’s gazing at her. It’s definitely progress.

But as the notes fade and people start clapping, clamoring for another song in the same vein as the first, he steps back – shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts.

“I should go.”

“What? No.” Tessa protests, breathless and eager for more. “You just got here.”

“I shouldn’t have come. I just… I wanted…” He’s looking anywhere but at her, and Tessa wants to reach for his hand, but he steps further back. “Have a good rest of your night.” He sounds so stiff and formal all of a sudden, and Tessa hates it, but before she can even begin to try to stop him he’s already turned and gone.

 

A pair of hands cover her eyes and Tessa nearly screams before she hears a semi-familiar male voice say, “Guess who, baby.”

She stifles a groan as she mutters his name. The hands drop and he laughs.

“Got it in one. Can I have this dance?”

Tessa lets him lead her onto the dance floor, but her heart is no longer in it. And it’s clear Tyler has no idea how to dance properly. His feet stay planted to the floor and all he does is sway back and forth and try to cop a feel.

After his third attempt at grabbing her ass, Tessa pulls away – excusing herself to go to the restroom. In reality, she has a headache and just wants to go home. She makes her excuses to Michel and Elle, before slipping outside and escaping back to her apartment.

 

Safely tucked in bed, she wraps her arms around herself in a tight hug. The room feels big and empty, and her heart feels that way too. The all-too-brief dance with Scott was enough to remind her that, even with the distractions working at Vogue brought her (and they were many), she is incredibly lonely. Impulsively, she reaches for her phone and sends her mom a text. 

**Tessa:** Can I come visit you when you're home?

Her mother replies almost immediately, as if she'd been sitting by the phone just waiting for Tessa to ask. 

**Mom:** Absolutely! I would love that! I'll text you as soon as I'm back in town. 

Feeling slightly better, Tessa drifts off into a restless sleep - plagued by dreams of Scott dancing with other girls and leaving her behind, cold and alone on the ice. 


	5. Try

“Alright everybody, silence.” Michel barks, switching from easy-going to boss-mode so fast it nearly gives Tessa whiplash. He had called a meeting that morning to discuss their July issue, but it had taken time for everyone to trickle in and take their seats. During that time, Tessa had enjoyed the opportunity to get to know her boss a little better, although for most of the conversation she had to pretend she understood what he was saying and who he was referring to.

Now, however, he was standing at attention in front of the room – all traces of friendly Michel gone – and Tessa mentally added _mercurial_ to his list of traits in her head.

“Corporate has decided we’re going to run with the Canadian heroes theme from the party for our July issue. It will coincide perfectly with Canada Day. So, you have two weeks before I’ll expect a presentation. I trust that my fabulous dynamic duo,” He pauses to smile expectantly at Tessa and Elle, “Will come up with something brilliant to show me then.”

           

Ideas begin brewing in Tessa’s mind instantly. She’s spent the better part of the last week surfing the internet and trying to cram as much knowledge of 2019 into her brain as she can, and she’s about ready to burst with it. “Do you want to go back to my office and start brainstorming?” She asks Elle eagerly as they walk out of the room.

“You know what, Tess? Let’s do that after lunch, okay? I’ve got an appointment right now.” Elle walks away with her nose in the air, dismissing Tessa completely without giving her any time to reply, but Tessa doesn’t let it dampen her enthusiasm. She'll write down some ideas and talk to Elle about them later. 

“Miss Virtue, I have your urgent messages.” Samantha says, jogging slightly to keep up with Tessa’s pace as she heads back towards her office.

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

Samantha's face turns green, clearly reluctant to read them out loud. “Um… okay. Martha Simmons called and wanted me to tell you: ‘I can’t believe you scooped my story on Meghan Markle, you backbiting bitch. That was a new level of sleaze, even for you. I hope you die.’”

Tessa’s pace slows as she listens, “Oh my god. That was so mean.” She isn’t sure if she’s talking about what Mrs. Simmons said or her own apparent behavior. Had she really stolen someone else's story? 

“Miss Lewis called. She said, ‘I hope you choke on your own bile you pretentious, conniving snake.’”

Tessa cuts her off there, glancing around at the other people in the office who have stopped their work to listen to the harsh messages. “Maybe I should read them myself.”

Samantha breathes a visible sigh of relief and hands her the stack of cards. “Good.”

Once seated at her desk, Tessa reads a few more of the messages. They’re all variations upon the same theme – people telling her how awful she is and that they hope she dies. She can’t believe people would say such mean and hurtful things – or that she could possibly have done something to deserve it.

“Maybe this is normal stuff for editors? I should ask Elle.” She thinks, standing up and walking towards her friend’s office. Seeking reassurance that these are more… generic messages of hate, rather than something Tessa might deserve.

 

She stops outside of Elle’s office when she hears talking inside, not wanting to interrupt.

“We’ve assembled a great team, all that’s left is to hire a great photographer, and don’t let Tessa find out.” She can hear Elle’s voice talking to someone else in the room, and she knows eavesdropping is wrong, but in this instance she can’t pull herself away. She rationalizes that it's okay to listen if people are talking about  _you_. 

“Obviously. I mean, God, what is up with her lately? She’s been all over the place.” Another woman’s voice responds, and Tessa cringes. She had thought she’d been acting fairly normal, all things considered. Had even daydreamed about accepting a fictional Oscar for Greatest Real Life Actress for her performance over the last week.

"I have no idea, and I don’t care. I’m sick of having her around – always in the spotlight. Michel’s favorite no matter what she does. She stole Charlotte’s idea and then fired her. So I say we go ahead with our own presentation-“

“And let her fall on her ass.” The other woman finishes Elle’s sentence, and the two of them laugh harshly.

Tessa staggers back. Apparently, not only do random people she doesn’t know call and say hateful things, but her own supposed best friend doesn’t even like her. And what’s worse, from the way everyone talks and acts it sounds like she really does deserve it. Whoever the other-Tessa was, current Tessa is starting to despise her a little bit. How could one woman be such a success, but also so awful? 

“That stops now.” She whispers to herself, earning a weird glance from an intern walking past. Tessa turns and marches back to her office, calling out to Samantha on the way. “Sam, I need your help. Please.”

The assistant jumps to attention, following closely behind Tessa into the room and already prepared to take notes. “What do you need, Miss Virtue?”

“Please, just call me Tessa." She begs, hating the weird barriers between her and everyone else who works at Vogue. "I need to assemble a team – I’ve got an idea for the new issue and I want to get going right away. Who do I usually work with?”

Samantha gives her a confused, wide-eyed look before holding up her hand and counting people off as she lists them. “But I think… I think Miss Pratt already has them working on her project.”

“Oh. Right.” Tessa pauses, she should have figured Elle would already have recruited all the best people, but then she smiles. “Then get me whoever you think is best. Whoever has fresh eyes and is friendly and eager to work.”

“Are you sure, Miss-I mean, Tessa? You want me to choose?”

“Sure! I trust you.” Tessa gives her the best mega-watt smile she can manage, and Samantha grins in response. The smile changes her whole appearance, making her look years younger, and Tessa wonders just how much of the woman’s haggard appearance and exhausted behavior is her fault.

“Then I suggest Louis, Kate, Jennifer, and Derek.” She sounds more confident with each word, and it makes Tessa smile even wider. Maybe it’s not too late to fix how everyone looks at and thinks about her.

“Perfect. Please bring them all into my office.”

 

Tessa spends the time waiting for everyone to arrive by scribbling furiously on a piece of paper and pulling up links to articles describing what she wants to do. Slowly, each of the people Samantha suggested file in – each one looking more nervous than the last to be in _Tessa Virtue’s_ office. Nevertheless, Tessa greets them individually with a warm smile and a handshake.

“Thank you all for coming.” She begins nervously, very aware that they’re expecting a Tessa who knows what she’s doing, not a thirteen year old blundering through a school project for a grade. “So I was thinking… what I want to do is something like… have you all seen the _Humans of New York_ book?”

A couple of them nod and Tessa sees Samantha give her an encouraging smile from where she’s taking notes, so with a deep breath she continues. “What I want to do is something like that, only it will be _People of Canada_. We’ll spread out so we get as wide of a variety as possible. Each of you will cover different areas, if you don’t mind traveling, and take a photographer with you. Try to interview as many different people as you can. I really want to reflect the true Canada – not just the big time heroes or famous people like at the party, although they’re great too, but the everyday heroes all around us. People who are heroes maybe only to one other person, but heroes just the same. Everybody has a story to tell.”

One of the girls, (The one named Jennifer, Tessa remembers after a moment), raises her hand slowly and Tessa prepares herself for the inevitable – to be told that it’s a stupid idea. “How many people do you want us to get?”

“Oh! So, you don’t think it’s a bad idea?” Tessa asks nervously, feeling her cheeks turn pink, but determined to maintain eye contact and put on a confident façade.

“No, I think it’s great. You’ll probably want to talk to the guy who did the New York one – have Legal make sure it’s okay – but yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”

Everyone else nods and murmurs in agreement with Jennifer, and Tessa relaxes against the edge of her desk. “Great. I’m really pleased you’re all on board. Sam, would you mind getting Legal started on that?” Sam nods and leaves the room and Tessa turns back to the other four. “We’ve only got two weeks so let’s get started. We’ll try to interview and photograph as many people as we can, and the stories we don’t use in the magazine can go on an Instagram page as a companion to the July issue. I’ll take the Toronto area-“

“Wait. You’re going to do interviews?” Louis asks, accompanied by looks of surprise from everyone else in the room. Their eyebrows raised so high they’re nearly disappearing into their hairlines.

“Yes… I’ve done interviews before.” Or, at least, other-Tessa has. But how hard can it be? She’s done a few interviews with Scott for ice dancing, surely this wouldn’t be too different. And she wants to prove that she's willing to work just as hard as everyone else on this project. It’s clear from their expressions that no one has the guts to challenge her on this, so Tessa nods and dismisses them after everyone picks different major cities from BC to PEI to visit over the course of the next week.

Tessa almost chose to travel to another city herself, but ultimately decided it would be too complicated in her current condition. She still struggles to navigate her adult body right now (if she thought she was clumsy before, it's nothing compared to how she is after growing five inches overnight) – there’s no way she could handle navigating the country.

 

After everyone leaves she sits down at her desk to research interview questions and read through examples of short interviews to get an idea of what the typical one looks like.

Her phone buzzes and Samantha’s voice rings out over the intercom, disturbing her concentration. “Tessa, Mr. Velasquez is here to see you.”

“Who?” Tessa asks, after taking a moment to figure out how to use the button on the console of her complicated office phone.

“Tracy in human resources’ husband.” She replies, an interesting hint of disappointment coloring her voice.

“Oh, um… okay. Send him in.”

Tessa stands up and walks around to the front of her desk, preparing to greet whoever this guy is and find out what he wants. It only takes a moment before he comes in through the glass door – backing in so that he can finish saying to Samantha, “Just came to bring Tracy her lunch. Thought I’d say hello.”

As soon as he’s closed the door and turned around Tessa holds our her hand. “Hello, I’m Tessa Vir-“

His mouth is on hers in an instant, pressing hard against her lips – bruising them – and his hands start pawing at her blouse. It takes a moment before the shock wears off, but then Tessa is pushing him away. Shoving as hard as she can. But he’s built like a brick wall, and her unwillingness seems to only encourage him. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but he’s attacking her! So he bites down on his lip as hard as she can.

That seems to catch his attention and he pulls back to look at her, bringing one hand up to caress his bleeding lip. “Oh so that’s how you want it today. Rough? I can be rough.”

“Oh my God, no!” She’s practically forced back onto her desk at this point, and in an effort to push him away her knee comes up – hitting him with extreme force directly in the groin.

He drops to the floor instantly – groaning loudly as he holds his crotch in pain.

“What the fuck, Tessa?” He shouts, but Tessa just daintily picks up her purse off her desk and steps around him.

“Well, you should have listened when I said no. Creep.” She runs out of the office then before he can recover, calling out to a grinning Sam, “I’m taking my lunch now!”

“Have a great time!” Sam calls after her, looking incredibly proud – as if Tessa just defeated a dragon. And Tessa mentally marks a point for herself in the 'Change People’s Perception of Me' column.

 

 

After that (which she mentally refers to as _The Incident_ ) she mostly avoids going into the office. There isn’t really a reason to, as her team is spread across the country, and she herself is busy walking around different areas of downtown Toronto accompanied by her photographer, Wade, and interviewing anyone who will let her.

The first day is incredibly intimidating, and she nearly gives up before noon, but with Wade’s encouragement (bless him) she continues on and eventually it starts to become fun. She meets all sorts of interesting people – from immigrants to chefs to authors to students to yoga instructors – and just as she’d hoped, everyone has a good story to tell. What's more, they all seem to enjoy taking the time to talk to her. By the end of the week Tessa feels like she's walking on clouds. 

 

On Friday morning it occurs to her that this is the perfect excuse to see Scott again. She’s been racking her brain all week for a plausible reason to see him – and an interview for work seems like just the thing.

She dials his number, and for once he actually answers.

“Tessa Virtue – up so early in the morning?” His voice is rough and heavy with sleep, and it does funny things to Tessa’s insides. She starts fiddling with the papers on her desk, folding them into little mishapen lumps, and can’t seem to keep her eyes pinned on any one thing in her office.

“Um… yeah.” She lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks turning pink. “I’m at the office, actually. I’m working on a big project for our July issue and was wondering if you would help me with part of it. A small part. Super easy, I promise.”

“What’s the project?” He sounds hesitant, but he doesn’t immediately say no, which Tessa takes as a good sign.

“We’re interviewing people around Canada – trying to get an in-depth look at all the diverse and wonderful people there are here. Just short stories and stuff. I promise it won’t take long.” She finds herself immediately trying to reassure him, pleading with him in her heart not to turn her down.

“And you want to interview me?” He sighs, one long hard exhale, and then says, “Okay. Ask me your questions.”

“Not like this.” Tessa cuts in hastily. “We’re doing pictures too, so it can’t be over the phone. Can I come out there today? I can meet you wherever is easiest.”

He’s quiet for so long that Tessa wonders if he hung up, but a quick glance at her phone screen confirms that the call is still connected.

“I’m teaching today. You can meet me at the Ilderton rink at noon. You remember where it is?” He finally replies, and she punches the air in triumph. 

Tessa confirms that she does remember, and is certain he can hear how hard she’s smiling through the phone as she promises to see him later.

 

\---------

 

His students are just leaving as she and Wade arrive a couple hours later, and he skates over to where they stand behind the boards as soon as he’s bid his last farewell. Tessa tugs at her black and white striped cashmere sweater as he takes in her appearance – wishing that she’d taken the time to dress up a little more or do her hair in a fancier style than the simple French braid its currently in.

“Hi, Scott.” She knows she’s blushing, but she can’t help it. He looks so good – skating confidently and looking like he belongs on the ice. It also doesn’t help that every time she sees him she’s reminded all over again that he’s a _man_ now, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Tessa.” He nods his head in greeting, eyes shifting over to the man next to her. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! This is Wade – he’s one of the photographers that works for Vogue. He’ll be the one taking your picture today, if that’s alright.”

“I wish I’d known.” He runs his hand through his already ruffled hair, messing it up even more, and Tessa finds herself resisting the urge to brush it back off his forehead. “Can’t you just use one of the other professional photos of me online?”

“No, we want the pictures to be _in the moment_ – an accurate portrayal of the person as they are on that day. Besides, you look good.” She adds the last part by accident, too much emphasis on the word good. Blinking rapidly at her slip-up, she avoids making eye contact - instead glancing away from him to fixate on the familiar signs hanging around the arena. Apparently it hadn’t changed much in the last seventeen years. She can see Wade smirking at her from the corner of her eye, but when she turns to glare at him he’s focused intently on preparing his camera.

Clearing her throat, Tessa forces herself to look back at Scott. “Shall we begin?”

 

He puts his skate-guards on and walks over to sit next to her on the bench, waiting patiently while she pulls out her phone to record their conversation. It’s awkward at first, but once Scott gets started he’s a natural at interviews, just like when they were kids. Tessa asks him mostly about his life after the Olympics and what it’s been like adjusting, and he takes it from there.

“… Mostly it’s just great to feel like I’m giving back to the community. Everyone here was so supportive through both of the Olympics, I really wanted to return the favor. That’s why I love teaching skating here instead of at some big name school – I feel like I’m really giving these kids a chance they wouldn’t otherwise have. Maybe that’s a bit pretentious,” He pauses to laugh awkwardly, “But I know how blessed I was to get the chances I did – not every kid has that, and if I can help in some way, that makes me feel good.”

Tessa doesn’t say anything, just smiles at him. He’s such a good person – always has been. Always putting other people first, just like he had when they were skating together. He was the best partner she could have had because they were both equally selfless and supportive of each other on the ice. She’s incredibly pleased to discover that he hasn’t changed ( _“Unlike me.”_ A traitorous voice in her head whispers).

He watches her for a moment, waiting for her to say something else. When she doesn’t he runs his hand through his hair again and asks, “Is that it?”

“Yep. You're perfect." Her eyes grow wide and she hurries to correct herself. "i mean, I think that was perfect. The interview. It was great.” She’s still smiling at him, despite her embarrassment, and he slowly returns it – locking eyes with her in a way that sends her blood racing. After a minute, it becomes too intense for Tessa and she breaks away. Shoving her phone back into her purse as an excuse not to look at him - afraid of what she'll see.

“I guess that’s it. I should get going back to Toronto.” She still isn’t looking at him, so she’s surprised when he disagrees.

“Or… how long has it been since you skated?”

She looks up at him, taking in the hint of a smile tugging at his lips and soft look in his eyes, and she very nearly says, “About two weeks. You were there – in Kitchener.” But she catches herself just in time.

She has no idea what the real answer is, so she vaguely says, “A while.”

He smirks and stands up. “I thought so. Whatdya say we get you some skates and see how rusty you are?”

Tessa stares at him dumbly. Is he really suggesting they skate together? This is more than she ever could have hoped for. Practically jumping out of her seat she yells, “Okay!” Cringing at the way her loud voice echoes around the rink. But Scott just laughs at her enthusiasm.

“Come on.”

 

Once she’s got the skates on, standing up to test their balance and the way they feel, they head out onto the ice. Tessa nearly falls almost immediately.

It isn’t that she’s forgotten how, but her body is so different now. It’s taller than she’s used to and her center of gravity is all off. She’s mortified at the way her legs shake in the attempt to keep her upright, but after a moment Scott reaches out an arm to steady her and she suddenly doesn’t mind so much.

He keeps his arm around her waist to act as support while they go around a few times, and eventually Tessa starts to get used to the way skating feels as a thirty year old.

 

"How's the head?" He breaks the silence as they glide around the edge of the arena, keeping her steady as her feet periodically slip out from under her. "I mean... do you remember stuff again?" 

"No." And it's a massive relief to finally be honest. He's still the only person who knows, and Tessa relaxes completely - knowing she doesn't have to pretend with him like everything is normal. "Still nothing from the last seventeen years. It's been a real struggle at work." 

"I'll bet! Have you told anybody there? Maybe they'd let you take some time off." 

"I... don't even know how I would begin to explain. And it feels a little late now. I've been pretending for over a week to be okay." 

"I guess, but I still think you should see a doctor." 

"Hmmm... maybe after I get this project for Vogue completed I can ask for some time off." She contemplates out loud. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea - it might be nice to spend some time relaxing. Maybe take some time to fix her familial relationships. She misses Jordan and her mom terribly.                 

“Tell me about your life.” She says after a few quiet minutes. 

“Is this part of the interview?” He teases.

"No. I just genuinely want to know. What are your brothers up to these days?”

And so Scott begins to talk – launching into stories about his brothers’ wives and kids. How Danny moved to Calgary to be a firefighter and how much he wishes he could visit him more. That his mom keeps busy working part time at the Skate Shop ("But you already knew that" he reminds her, as if she could forget Alma's cold reception). Funny anecdotes about his nephews and nieces. All the while he keeps his arm around her as they make lazy circles around the ice rink.

Tessa feels more content than she can remember being in a long time. This, this is where she’s supposed to be. Whether she’s thirteen or thirty, skating with Scott just feels _right_.

“You wanna try the Foxtrot?” He asks after a little while, when she’s skating smoothly and no longer in danger of killing them both by wiping out.

Tessa nods eagerly and lets him move her into position. He takes it slow – muttering something about how he’s out of practice that she suspects is more for her sake than his – but eventually they begin to move around the ice in the old patterns.  

“Ready for a lift?” He teases, and Tessa hits his chest playfully.

“Not today, buddy. I’m not ready to crack my head open.”

“I wouldn’t drop you.” He insists. “I never did. Not once.” And for a moment he sounds more serious than the situation calls for, looking at her like he’s trying to convey another message in his words. Some coded meaning that she can’t decipher.

“I know.” She whispers, reaching up to caress his cheek on impulse – surprised when his eyes grow dark and a little shiver runs through him. She’s standing so close she can feel it run through her as well, and it’s thrilling in an entirely new way.

He pulls away quickly, letting her go and forcing her hand to drop back by her side. “Nah, you’re right. Too risky. Another time, eh?” He’s already skating away before she can reply, leaving her no choice but to follow him off the ice – the moment over far too soon.  

 

Later that night, when she's back in her own apartment snuggled up in bed, Wade texts her a few photos that he took of her and Scott ice skating. They look... happy - staring at each other like the cover of a romance movie. She texts a couple to Scott with a smiley-face emoji, and he replies back with a simple, "Thanks. I like these." 

It's enough for Tessa, and she's still smiling as she falls asleep. 


	6. Oh Please Say to Me...

“How’s the project coming along?”

Tessa balances her phone on her shoulder while she prepares a snack of apple slices and peanut butter. “Really well. My team will all be back on Wednesday and then we’ll get started on sorting through all of the interviews and photos and putting together a layout.”

She can tell the Scott’s smiling when he asks, “Will I make the cut?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. Not if somebody else _also_ interviewed an ice dancer-turned-philanthropist.” Tessa teases, walking over to her couch and settling in under her favorite fluffy blanket.

This is her third nightly chat with Scott in as many days, and the first one where he’d been the one to call her instead of the other way around. When her phone had started ringing and his name had lit up the screen Tessa thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest. She felt like dancing the samba across her living room – and she still might, once the call is over.

“What would the tie-breaker be?” He teases back, and she can’t help the giddy grin that spreads across her face.

“Whoever’s cuter, of course. It _is_ a fashion magazine.” The flirting is unintentional, it just slips out, and she waits nervously for him to reply – hoping that she hasn’t ruined the conversation.

She lets out a sigh of relief when Scott just whines. “That’s not fair. You didn’t give me a chance to do my hair before taking the photo. I’m at a disadvantage.”

“Actually, I think your hair works in your favor. I like how it is right now.”

He lets out a bashful chuckle and Tessa feels very pleased with herself. The world of adult relationships and flirting might be totally foreign to her, but she thinks she’s holding her own in it. “How was teaching today?”

“Actually, that’s why I called. Do you remember when we were kids and you could lift me just as easily as I could lift you? A pair of my students were doing that today - switching rolls like it was nothing. I'm almost tempted to let them do it in a competition just to see what the reaction is.“

Tessa laughs along with him. "If you do,  _please_ let me know. I'd love to see that." 

Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, Tessa relaxes to the sound of Scott telling her more stories about his students. It's clear from the way he talks about them that he really cares about each student - both individually and as a pair. Tessa is so proud of him and all that he's accomplished.   

“It's great to see the way they're each growing as teams. Building that trust, you know? I know you don’t remember this, but on one of our last good days we had this massive snowball fight against some hockey players who were giving me shit for being an ice dancer. Just you and me against a whole team. You nailed their leader right in the face. It was fantastic. That's the kind of partnership I want these kids to have.”

Tessa tries to ask what he means – _one of the last good days –_ but he doesn’t give her the chance, plowing straight into the next funny story. Tessa laughs when prompted, but only half pays attention. Too preoccupied by the secrets he carries.

She knows the day is coming when she won't be able to put off the difficult conversation any longer. Things are improving between them, she even dares to think of them as friends again, but she knows she can't ever hope fix their relationship completely if she doesn't find out what broke it in the first place. 

“Wow, it’s late.” Scott's voice has slowed and dropped into a whisper. Tessa glances over at the clock above her fireplace. The bright numbers flashing 1:24 AM in the dark room.

“I didn’t notice.” She whispers back, following his lead.

“I should go to bed.” His voice sounds a little garbled – like he’s already half asleep. She can’t help but wonder if he’s been talking to her from his bed the whole time. Somehow that makes their conversation seem more… _intimate._

“Me too.” Her own head feels heavy and she lets it drop to the throw pillow next to her on the couch. Her limbs refuse to move from their current position - even to make the short walk to her bed.

“Goodnight, Tess.” He says her name like a caress, and she lets out a happy sigh.

“Goodnight, Scott.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Tessa leaves the office on Thursday she is exhausted and starving. She had opted to work through lunch to keep the momentum going on assembling her project with her team, and now was reaping the consequences of that decision.

She’s very proud of all the work they’ve done so far, and is convinced they’ve landed on something really special – whether Michel likes the idea or not, Tessa is satisfied with herself. Maybe she _can_ navigate adulthood successfully. Work is going surprisingly well, she’s becoming friends with Samantha and her other teammates – they have plans to go out for drinks after the presentation Monday – and she thinks… dares to hope… that she and Scott are heading _somewhere_.

After talking to him every day since skating together, she figures it’s reasonable to expect that their relationship can be repaired and move forward. Whatever that might mean – she wants it.

 

"Hold the elevator!” She calls out, jogging to make it inside before the doors close. An awkward silence descends when she realizes she’s hopped inside with Elle. The two of them haven’t spoken since Michel’s first meeting about the upcoming July issue and Tessa overheard the nasty conversation about her.

“Hi, Elle.” Tessa doesn’t look at her, instead facing resolutely forward and tapping her foot impatiently. “How’s your proposal coming along?”

“Great. I hope you don’t mind being excluded. I just really wanted to move forward with my idea.” She speaks with confidence, as if she already knows her idea is going to win. 

“Yeah, no, I understand.” Tessa jumps in to reassure her, before giving her a fake smile in the reflective glass and informing her, “I’m doing my own thing too.”

"You think your idea is better than mine." Elle's voice is laced with venom, and Tessa wonders how they stayed friends for so long if this is the kind of person she really is.

"No. I'm just working on my own thing. Like you." She shrugs and steps off the elevator – leaving Elle standing alone and fuming. That might be the one relationship Tessa isn't concerned about saving. 

 

 Tessa’s stomach is grumbling so loudly that the taxi driver chuckles every time it makes a sound on the drive back to her apartment, prompting her to get out a few blocks early to pick up some dinner at the café near her apartment. They make a mean grilled-cheese that she needs to put in her belly  _immediately_. 

As she approaches the brown brick building, she spots a woman sitting on the bench in front of it reading _Great Expectations_ with a single-minded focus. She has a canvas bag full of children’s books on the ground next to her. If there’s anything this Vogue project has taught Tessa, it’s to follow her impulses to talk to people she'd otherwise ignore. So, making a split second decision, she decides to walk over and ask if the woman wants to be part of the magazine.

“Excuse me, my name is Tessa and I work for Vogue here in Toronto. We’re doing a segment on the people of Canada – can I ask you a few questions?”

The woman looks up, and she’s prettier than Tessa expected – her short red hair framing her face perfectly, with bright blue eyes that look kind and trusting. “Oh, um… sure why not? It’ll have to be quick though. My fiancé will be out with our drinks any minute.”

“Of course.” Tessa agrees quickly. “I’ll be fast.”

She sits down on the bench with a friendly smile, pulling out her phone. “Do you mind if I record this?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay, let’s start with your name and then just tell me a little bit about yourself. Anything you like.”

“My name is Georgia Phillips, but everyone calls me Gigi. I’m from Winnipeg, but I moved to Toronto to teach pre-school a couple of years ago. I love it here, and I met my fiancé here, so I guess it was the right choice.” She chuckles and Tessa joins in.

“Tell me more about teaching.” Tessa prompts her, and Gigi opens her mouth to reply before getting distracted by something behind Tessa.

“Oh, here he comes!” She smiles and Tessa turns around in her seat.

 

“Scott?”

 

“Tessa!”

 

They stare at each other – Scott holding two large coffee cups and looking like a wild animal caught in a trap. Gigi has already stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder, walking over to stand by him, taking one of the cups and looping her arm through his.

"You two know each other?” There’s no suspicion in her voice, merely innocent curiosity, and Tessa feels oddly like she's no longer in control of her own body. Her brain is off somewhere above them watching this conversation unfold with abject horror. 

“Yes.”

“Once upon a time, we used to be skating partners.” Scott explains quickly. “Wow, what’s it been, T? Fourteen years? It’s nice to see you again.”

Tessa stares at him dumbfounded. His eyes plead for her to play along, to keep it a secret that they've been spending time together and talking, but she still can’t get past the revelation that he’s going to be married.

“It’s nice to see you too.” She finally manages to say. “I… didn’t know you were engaged. Congratulations!” Her voice sounds distant and false to her own ears, but Gigi doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Tessa can’t seem to stop looking at where Gigi’s hand holds onto Scott’s bicep – the rock on her third finger shimmering in the sun like a neon sign flashing, “ _He’s not yours! He belongs to someone else._ ”

“Thank you!” Gigi replies when it seems Scott is incapable of doing so. He takes a big gulp of his coffee – cringing when it burns his tongue. “Wait… Tessa... I remember. Scott’s first skating partner. He mentioned you once.” Stepping forward, she offers her hand to Tessa, who shakes it out of habit. “It’s nice to meet you – officially.”

She’s so bright and friendly – not a hint of artifice – Tessa feels guilty for wanting to hate her.

“It’s nice to meet you too – officially.” The cogs in her brain are finally starting to work again, and her voice sounds moderately more normal.

“You should come to the wedding!”

Scott’s head whips around to stare at Gigi, and Tessa feels her own face turning bright red as she stutters a reply. “Oh, that’s very kind, but I couldn’t.”

“Please. It’s going to be very casual. I’m sure Scott would love to have you.”

The invitation hangs in the air and Tessa can’t resist looking at Scott, but his eyes remain fixed on his coffee.

“Well… when is it?”

“Next Wednesday, June twelfth. Eleven o’clock. I keep having to remind this one,” she gestures at Scott, “that he’s running out of time to get his hair cut, but he’s become convinced that he likes it this way.” Gigi rolls her eyes, and Tessa feels like she’s supposed to laugh, so she does, but mostly she wants to run away. Scott runs a hand through his hair self-consciously, and Tessa is reminded of their conversation a few nights ago about how much she liked it like this. "Please say you'll come next week." Gigi pleads with big doe-eyes. 

Tessa's willing to say whatever it takes to get out of there, so she agrees to go. Scott finally looks at her when she does, and God knows Tessa wishes she could tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are full of an emotion that she can’t identify. Embarrassment, shame, regret... and longing?

“Baby!” A voice calls out from across the road and Tessa drops her face into her palm. Could this night get any worse?

“Not now.” She mutters as a heavy arm wraps around her shoulders and pulls her in tight.

Tyler kisses her on the cheek, even though her face is still partially covered by her hand, and then says, “Who are your friends?”

Years of her mother’s instruction on how to be polite force Tessa to raise her face and participate in the conversation. “This is my friend Scott, and his friend Gigi.”

"Fiancée, actually.” Gigi corrects, shaking Tyler’s hand.

Tessa sneaks a glance at Scott, surprised to find him staring daggers at Tyler – his jaw clenched so tight she can see the muscles in it twitching. He shakes Tyler’s hand, but Tessa can tell he squeezed too much when Tyler shakes his hand out afterwards and jokes about Scott’s grip.

“This is Tyler Bozak.” Tessa refuses to call him her boyfriend. It’s just simply not correct anymore, although she should probably tell him that so he stops trying to talk to her.

“You play for the Leafs.” Scott says in a strange, monotone voice.

“Sure do, man! Want me to sign something?” Tyler has an easy smile, and in another life Tessa might find him charming, but in this life she just wants him gone.

Scott just scoffs. “No, thanks. How do you two know each other?”

“Aww. Tessa’s my little baby doll.” He kisses her cheek again and Tessa has to resist the urge to wipe off the area where his lips touched her skin. “We’ve been together almost two years now. She’s just wonderful, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, Tessa’s great. Everybody should have a Tessa.” Scott mutters, and Tessa flinches at the tone in his voice, whilst simultaneously being a little offended. Who is he to judge her when she _just_ found out he’s getting married!?

“That’s so sweet! You make a lovely couple.” Gigi says, seemingly unaware of the tumult going on inside the man next to her. The awkward buzz humming in every part of the conversation. The way Scott and Tessa both seem to have forgotten how to act like normal people.

“We sure do.” Tyler squeezes her shoulder and Tessa tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Scott’s face looks absolutely furious for a moment, but he quickly schools it back into a neutral expression.

“We should really be heading back to your apartment, Gigi." He spares another irritated glance at her and Tyler. "It was nice to see you." He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead grabbing his fiancée’s hand and walking away quickly. Tessa can hear Gigi chastising his rude behavior as they disappear around the corner.

With a disappointed sigh, and feeling close to tears, Tessa ducks out from under Tyler’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. It’s been _so long_. I thought we could open a bottle of wine and relax in that big bathtub of yours. It's been _hard_ not seeing you as much lately.” His eyes slide over her body and Tessa shudders in disgust at the very idea of his hands on her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why not? I know you want it. You always do.”

Tessa flushes - completely mortified - and steps further away from him. “You _don’t_ know me. And I don’t know you.”

Tyler crosses his arms and glares at her. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying… it’s been two years. I think maybe it’s time for a break.” Tessa’s only knowledge of break-ups comes from TV, and that knowledge feels utterly useless in real life. Somehow Buffy and Angel’s situation doesn’t seem applicable to what’s happening right now – so she’s forced to just kind of wing it. Hopefully he'll get the message and stay far away from now on.

Realization seems to dawn on Tyler’s face, and Tessa feels a modicum of relief. “I see what’s happening here. Okay. Sure, Tess. Whatever you want.”

Something inside her says that he’s conceding too easily, but she ignores it in the hope that she’s really just a pro at ending a relationship amicably. “Great. See you around.”

She gives him a high-five, of all things, and heads home. Giving up completely on the idea of getting food from the café – which she’s now convinced is cursed – and eating leftover Thai food from the night before instead.

Eventually she works up the nerve to reach out to Scott. The text she sends is a heavily edited version of her first draft: “WHAT THE HELL??? YOU’RE ENGAGED AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO MENTION IT ONCE!?”

 

**Tessa:** So… we should probably talk?

 

She taps her phone against her leg while she waits for a reply that never comes. When the clock strikes midnight and there’s still no answer, Tessa turns off her phone and goes to bed with a renewed sense of determination to focus exclusively on her Vogue project now. Scott and his secrets be damned.  


	7. We Could Be

The secondhand ticks loudly on the clock on the wall of Tessa’s office. She stares at it intensely, as if by sheer force of will she can make it move faster. The presentations are scheduled to begin in the main conference room at 3:00, and she’s so prepared that there’s nothing left for her to do now but sit and watch as the hands move slowly closer and closer to the hour of her fate.

On the corner of her desk her phone lights up – reminding her that she has an unread text from Scott. Tessa glares at the offending device, flipping it over so that it’s lying face-down and easier to ignore. Since Thursday he’s tried to contact her a few times, either by text or voicemail, but Tessa has resolutely ignored each of his attempts to reach her.

She can’t get over the fact that he didn’t once think to mention Gigi and his engagement in any of their conversations. Part of the reason (a bigger part than she wants to admit) that she’s so upset is because of her growing feelings for him, but mostly it’s because something like that should be a thing that friends tell each other. If he can keep something that important a secret, then what _else_ is he hiding?

Maybe he’s secretly a Russian spy. Or he runs an underground drug ring in Ilderton. Her brain keeps coming up with crazier and crazier theories, which she knows are ridiculous, but it gives her a sense of satisfaction to shape him into the villain in this story. It’s easier than facing her own feelings and actions.

 

“Tessa? Are you ready?” Samantha peeks her head around the corner with an encouraging smile, and Tessa jumps out of her seat.

“Ready Freddie!" She wants to bury her face in her hands for that juvenile response, but Samantha just laughs and helps Tessa carry her poster-boards to the main conference room.

 

“Alright ladies. I understand you’ll each be presenting different ideas today. I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with. Étonnes moi!” Michel sits gestures for Elle to begin before sitting down.

Tessa looks around the room at all the unfamiliar faces – important editors and journalists that she needs to impress today. She desperately wishes that her team could be here too to help with the pitch and boost her confidence, but Michel had specified executives only. Elle sits across the table from her, dressed all in black with sharp, angular make-up. The contrast with her perfectly straight blonde hair and pale skin makes her look like some sort of German supermodel.

She looks scary and confident, and Tessa can’t help but compare her own outfit choice – a periwinkle blue dress with black lace overlay, hair in a simple bun – and feel like she doesn’t command nearly enough presence next to Elle.

The phrase “if looks could kill” comes to mind as Elle stands up to do her presentation first. Tessa doesn’t even try to fight her on that honor – she’d rather see what she’s up against first.

“Corporate wants to focus on Canada. _Real_ Canada. And that’s what we’re going to give them.” Elle's slideshow is a series of frankly frightening photos and videos that make Tessa, and everyone else in the room, uncomfortable. “We’re going to go dark. Gritty. Reveal the seedy underbelly of Canada. The stories no one dares to cover. It will go heroin chic one better. It will OD. It. Will. Kill. We’ll call it ‘Canada’s Heroines’ – a feminist bent on the drugs, prostitution, and crime that is so pervasive here.”

Tessa’s pretty sure that Michel’s face mirrors her own. From her seat she can see that his mouth has dropped open and his eyebrows risen higher than previously thought physically possible. Apparently, Elle is into _dark_  stuff. Tessa could have gone the rest of her life without seeing some of the pictures that flash across the screen.

When she’s finally done, the room is completely silent. Nobody seems to know what to say. Finally, Michel claps politely – everyone else following suit – and says, “Well, that was certainly… something. Thank you for your hard work, Elle. I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” He looks over at her quickly, eyes pleading for her to begin, and Tessa jumps into action.

"I know this is going to be a little different from anything we’ve ever done.” Days of preparation have done nothing to quell the anxiety rising in her stomach now that she’s standing in front of the room. Tessa can feel herself wilting under all the stares and expectation. But then she sees Elle looking at her with one perfectly manicured, mocking eyebrow raised high – as if just waiting for Tessa to crash and burn – and her confidence surges. “And I know you might hate it, and think I’m completely crazy. But I won’t care, even if I get fired. I don’t mean that disrespectfully,” She hastens to add, addressing Michel directly, “It’s just that I’ve realized something.”

She holds up poster-boards of a variety of past Vogue issues, acutely aware of how low-tech her presentation is compared to Elle’s, but hoping that it adds to the charm of what she has to say. “Who are these people? Does anyone know? I don’t recognize them. A bunch of celebrities and models who have been cropped and edited – twisted into an unachievable reality.”

She switches to the largest board with a variety of photos and stories that her team had collected. All sorts of people from around Canada – fishermen, teachers, students, artists, mothers, brothers… the list goes on and on. “I want to see my neighborhood grocer, a camp leader, a First Nation artist, a potato farmer - real people who are happy to be who they are. This is the real Canada. The Canada I want to see. The one that makes me _proud_ to be Canadian.”

Tessa stands there, smiling and waiting for a reaction. Everyone is quiet, and for half a second she worries she’s about to get the same awkward response that Elle did, but then Michel starts clapping. Once he does, everyone else follows suit with big smiles on their faces.

“Marvelous. Simply marvelous.” Michel stands and pats her on the back. “This is exactly what we were looking for.”

“Good job, Tessa.”

“We love the idea.”

“This is going to be an amazing issue – I might even read it!”

Tessa is so overjoyed and relieved that people like it – she feels like her heart might burst. Her cheeks are already beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but she can’t seem to stop. Elle slips out of the room, looking mutinous, but Tessa dismisses her as being a sore loser.

 

She’s surprised then, when Elle returns with a stack of envelopes in her hands. She throws them down on the conference table, forcing everyone to stop talking and pay attention to her.

“It’s a good thing you said you don’t care if you get fired. I found these in your desk.”

“I don’t know what those are.” Tessa says truthfully, watching as Michel picks one of them up.

“These are letters from Leah Chernikoff.” He sounds… betrayed. “Thanking you for sending them information on our plans for each month’s Vogue issue.” He sifts through the stack on the table. “They date back all the way to when we were in Paris. Check stubs included.” He looks at Tessa for an explanation that she has no idea how to give.

All she can think to say is, “Who?” Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. People start shaking their heads, glaring at her, muttering their disbelief.

“Oh don’t play stupid with us. It’s not cute. She’s the Editorial Director at Elle Magazine. You know that.”

No, Tessa definitely did _not_ know that. But other-Tessa probably would have. She wants to believe that this isn’t true. That she hasn’t been selling information to their biggest competitor. Is ready to swear up and down that she’d never do that. But the problem is – she can’t say that for certain. She has no idea what happened before she _woke up_ three weeks ago.

“I’ve never seen those letters before. I swear.” At least that part is true and Tessa can say it with conviction. Michel looks like he wants to believe her, but then Elle speaks up again.

“Oh, no. Of course not. They’re only addressed to you and have clearly been opened.” Elle rolls her eyes and Michel’s expression turns hard.

“Tell me you didn’t do this.” His voice cuts like a knife – demanding something Tessa can’t honestly give him.

“I… _I_ didn’t.” She desperately wishes she could just tell him the truth – maybe other her did it, but _this_ Tessa didn’t – but that would just make her sound insane.

“I don’t believe you. There is clear evidence right here, and you’re not giving me any defense. I’ve never been so disappointed, or felt so betrayed. I hand-picked you to come to Toronto from Paris with me. To be on my team.” He looks truly devastated.

Tessa can feel tears pressing against the back of her eyes, threatening to break free. “Michel, please…”

He holds up a hand and Tessa immediately stops talking. “Get out. Pack up your things. You’re fired.”

 

* * *

 

 

The streets of Toronto pass in a blur as Tessa sobs quietly in the back of a taxi. A box full of photographs and office supplies rests on the seat next to her. She hadn’t been sure what was actually hers or belonged to the office, so she’d barely taken anything with her when she left.

The walk down the hallway as she exited the building had been excruciating. Samantha had tried asking her what was going on, but Tessa couldn’t bring herself to confess her crime to her new friend, so she had remained silent.

“Do you need help with that, love?” The driver asks when they pull up to her building, and Tessa realizes they’d stopped a while ago and she’d just been staring blankly out of the window for a couple of minutes.

“Oh, no. Thanks. I’ve got it.”

He smiles kindly at her – an older gentleman who reminds her of her grandfather – and hands her a tissue from his console. “Everyone needs to cry now and again. Don’t you worry though, it’ll all turn out okay.”

She gives him a watery smile before stepping out of the car. A good cry sounds like just what she needs.

 

An hour and forty-five minutes later Tessa finally emerges from under her duvet – eyes red and puffy – having completely exhausted her body’s supply of tears. She didn’t cover the windows before climbing into bed, so now the evening sun shines directly into her bedroom – casting long shadows on the walls and reminding her she should probably try to eat something.

Sitting up, she reaches for her discarded phone and sees a few missed messages. A couple from Elle that she deletes without reading, and one from Scott.

 

 **Scott:** How did the presentation go? I bet you rocked it.

 

A great heaving shudder racks her body and she dives under the blankets again – burying her head like an ostrich in the pile of pillows. All the fight has gone out of her and what’s left is just the overwhelming need to see him and have him tell her everything is going to be okay.

Tilting her head just enough to see (and breathe) she replies to his text.

 

 **Tessa:** Awful. I messed everything up.

 

 **Scott:** That’s impossible. I know you too well to believe that.

 

It’s gratifying how quickly he replies, but right now his faith in her feels completely misplaced.

 

 **Tessa:** No, really. I was fired.

 

She watches as the chat bubble appears, blinking as he types out a reply. Apparently he doesn’t know what to say, because it takes almost two minutes before the message finally comes through.

 

 **Scott:** I’m coming over. What’s your address?

 

Tessa launches up into a seated position – caught immediately in an internal debate. Is it right to have him come over? Should she even be seeking his comfort right now? A little mean-spirited voice in her head says, “You’re already a selfish person, might as well invite him.”

She knows a better person would probably tell him no, but Tessa _needs_ him. So she sends him the address before jumping out of bed to make herself presentable.

When she’d gotten home she had exchanged the dress for an oversized pink sweater and some leggings – which she decides after further review are good enough for Scott to see her in – but her hair has half fallen out of its bun and her make-up is smeared all over.

 

By the time she hears the buzzer coming from her front door she looks like a functioning human again, and it goes a long way to making her feel better about herself. Wallowing never did improve her moods.

The instant her door is open Scott’s arms wrap around her like a vice.

“I’m so sorry, T. What happened?”

She pulls away and leads him out to her balcony to sit side-by-side on the wicker loveseat before opening up about everything that had happened earlier. Scott listens patiently, never once making any sign that he’s judging her, for which Tessa is eternally grateful.

“… Do you think you actually did sell information?” He asks tentatively after Tessa finishes telling him how frustrated she is by her lack of knowledge about the whole situation.

“That’s what sucks. I _don’t_ know. Do you know what kind of person I am? I mean, really am, now?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m terrible. I’ve been a horrible, scary boss, and a bad friend. I missed Jordan’s wedding so that I could go to Paris instead. Apparently I steal ideas and then fire the people who actually thought of them. I did something bad with a married guy. I sold out my own employers – even though I’ve always loved Vogue. Apparently I’m just super money hungry, I don’t know. And worst of all, I messed us up.” She waves her hand between them.

“Tess-“ Scott tries to interrupt, but Tessa continues on.

“No, I know I did. I just don’t know how. You have to tell me what went wrong.”

“Tessa, we don't need to talk about this right now.” He shakes his head dismissively, but she won’t drop it or let him be evasive this time. She needs to know.

“Yes, we do. Please, Scott.”

He sighs, turning his body away from her and folding his arms across his chest. “It started on your thirteenth birthday. Danielle and the Six Chicks tricked you into going into the closet to wait for that idiot you had a crush on. When I showed up instead of him, you blamed me… there was a lot of yelling. Like, an impressive amount.” He pauses, chuckling humorlessly.

“After that you started shutting me out – really doubled-down on the whole Six Chick thing. We got an offer to train in Michigan – an amazing opportunity – but you refused to go. Said you had worked too hard to be popular to give up now.”

Tessa closes her eyes, ashamed and disappointed in her younger (older?) self.

“I stayed. Everyone said I was making the wrong choice, but I stayed for you. We managed to keep advancing, until finally we made it to the 2006 Canadian Championship. We had the skate of our lives, but it wasn’t enough to earn a spot on the Olympic Team that year…”

He pauses and Tessa can tell by the way his jaw ticks and his watery eyes that this is hard for him to talk about. She waits patiently for him to get his emotions in check and continue, even if it’s hard for her to hear.

After a few moments, he swallows loudly and begins again. “After the results came in, I could tell that you were disappointed. We both were, a bit, but I tried to be encouraging and optimistic. You wouldn’t listen. I… told you I loved you-“

Tessa sucks in a breath, her fingernails digging crescents into her palms.

“- and you laughed in my face. You said ice dance had been a complete waste of time and that you were done for good. You’d made threats like that before, but they were never serious so I dismissed it as you just reacting to our result. But you _did_ mean it. You stopped speaking to me after that. I was devastated. You weren’t there for me when I needed you most. So I moved to Canton and got a new partner. And that was it until you showed up on my porch three weeks ago.”

A few tears have escaped and fallen down his cheeks, which he wipes away hastily. Tessa can feel that her own cheeks are wet too, but she doesn’t even try to hide it. She can’t resist reaching out for his hand – needing that physical reassurance – and she’s relieved when he lets her take it and lace their fingers together.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is thick with words that feel infinitely inadequate for what he deserves.

“It’s okay. You don’t even remember it.” He squeezes his fingers around hers and gives her a weak smile, but Tessa can’t let him let her off the hook. It would be too easy, and she doesn’t deserve it.

“It’s not okay. Just because I can’t remember, doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. You deserve an apology. A million apologies. She…  _I_ was awful to you.”

“Tess, it’s fine-“

“No. You were sweet and kind and always took care of me. I could never have asked for a better partner or friend – you deserved so much better from me.”

“Hey now,” He reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks with his free hand, “I wasn’t perfect. What you did, how you handled everything, wasn’t right, but I could have been a better friend too and tried harder to help you. I knew you were unhappy, but I thought it was just a phase.”

They’re sitting so closely now, fingers laced together in her lap and his other hand still caressing her cheek. Foreheads practically touching. Tessa can see the varying shades of hazel and brown in his eyes, magnified by the way the light from the setting sun hits them.

“I’m glad you still had a career. You were good.” Tessa huffs, lips tilting up in a small smile. “So good. You didn’t need me.”

Scott uses his hand to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look directly at him. His voice is low and husky when he says, “Yes I did. I was better with you. Being with you is just… right.”

 

Tessa knows what’s coming next. Can see it in his eyes. Her eyelids drift closed as his lips meet hers, just the softest amount of pressure at first. A barely-there kiss that’s so sweet it nearly makes Tessa start crying again.

Scott seems to take her reaction as encouragement, and his hand tightens on the side of her neck – fingers tangling in her hair – as he presses his lips to hers again. Harder this time, with more intent. And Tessa is lost.

This kiss, her first _real_ kiss, is absolutely perfect in every way. She wants to soak it all in – revel in the sensations that for her are entirely new. Kissing him feels like missing puzzle pieces finally coming together. Like fireworks traveling under her skin and exploding in her brain.

She follows his lead. Learning from him how to react and respond. Her free hand reaches out to rest on his chest, fingers grabbing lightly at the fabric of his shirt of their own accord.

After a few minutes she feels his tongue touch lightly against her bottom lip, and Tessa isn’t sure what he wants her to do so she opens her mouth to ask, surprised when he makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat and strokes his tongue along hers. An embarrassing moan escapes her at the action, and Scott chuckles and does it again.

Tessa slides her hand around to his back, pulling him closer to her – letting her instincts take over – but that seems to wake up him and he pulls away. He kisses her softly one, two, three more times before leaning back all the way to look at her.

Still breathless and soaring, Tessa forces herself to ask, “What… what does this mean?”

“It means… we both have some serious thinking to do.”

He kisses her one last time, as if it’s something he can’t _not_ do, then smiles. “It’s getting late. I should go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

 

She goes to bed that night humming _I Could Have Danced All Night_ from My Fair Lady and feeling much happier than she probably should considering she’d just lost her job.

 

 

The next day she distracts herself by listening to music, cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, and waiting for a call that never comes.


	8. Love is Not a Victory March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the penultimate chapter. As always - thank you so much for your comments and kudos! <3

It turns out sleeping isn’t easy when your whole world has crashed down around you. Tessa stares at the ceiling finding shapes that aren’t there, and trying not to think. Her body has run the entire gamut of emotions today -  from happy and hopeful to disappointed and confused to white hot rage.

She went through her computer and phone to check for any evidence that would prove whether or not she had sold information to Elle Magazine. There are a few innocuous emails between her and Leah Chernikoff, but nothing definitive. Although why she expected to find something blatantly convicting her, she doesn’t know. She thinks she’d be smarter than to leave evidence just lying around, but then, Elle had found those letters in her office so… maybe she was just a careless idiot?

At this point Tessa would believe just about anything about her older, alternate self. Clearly the woman was vindictive and conniving. It’s scary not to know what else she could be capable of.

The most frustrating thing though, is that no matter how far down the rabbit hole she went regarding the Vogue situation, she had remained naively optimistic regarding the situation with Scott. Maybe it was just her inexperience speaking, but she had trusted that when he said he would call, he meant it.

They had kissed. _He_ had kissed _her_. And it was pretty good! At least, for Tessa it was. But the longer she waited to hear from him the more she began to freak out that maybe she was a terrible kisser and he hated it and was trying to let her down gently.

She’s never felt more thirteen than she does right now lying in her big bed, smothered in blankets, and utterly confused about a boy.

 

She tosses and turns, falling in and out of a restless sleep plagued by dreams where she’s trying to climb a ladder but keeps getting pulled down by rapidly rising quick sand. Her limbs heavy and weighed down. She wakes up in a panic, thrashing around wildly to free her arms and legs that are tangled up in the sheets like knots.

When she finally gets her heartrate under control, she looks over at the clock resting on her nightstand. Neon numbers flashing 5:07 imprint on the back of her eyelids, and with a groan Tessa sits up. There’s no way she’ll be able to fall back asleep now. She’s too keyed up and anxious.

A ten minute sprint on the treadmill in her home gym and a hot shower go a long way in helping to relieve some of the tension in her muscles. She blow dries her hair, leaving it down in long waves, and then wanders through her closet for something to wear.

Her fingers catch on the familiar feeling of denim near the back of a long row of casual dresses, and she pulls out a little knee-length dress. Running her fingers down the buttons on the front, she decides to put it on. Her hands find the pockets, and it gives her a little thrill the way only finding pockets on a dress can.

The clock surprises her by only showing 6:45, and she deflates a little bit in disappointment. Without work to distract her, she has no idea how to fill up her day. Even though she knows it’s unrealistic that Scott would be up this early and messaging her after complete radio silence yesterday, she can’t resist checking her phone.

A calendar reminder pops up: _Event Today: Wedding at 11:00_.

 

A loud clatter breaks the morning silence as Tessa’s phone drops to the floor. In all of the chaos of Monday and then the emotional rollercoaster that was yesterday, she had completely forgotten that Scott was supposed to be getting married this morning.

           

_Married_.

 

And Tessa knows, in that instant, what she should have figured out a long time ago. That she is in love with Scott Moir. He’s her partner. In skating, in friendship, in life. It’s her hand he should be holding and her lips he should be kissing and her he should be vowing to love and cherish forever.

Mentally she might be thirteen, but she’s been on a steep learning curve for the better part of a month and is catching up fast. And if this is to be her life now, this shattered, crumbled reality, well then she’ll be damned if she lets the one good thing in it slip away.

 

She grabs the first pair of shoes she sees – some simple white sneakers – and her phone and purse and practically runs out of her building.

It’s seven on a Wednesday morning and by all rights should be impossible to get a taxi, but it’s as if all the men milling about in suits waiting to catch a ride can tell that she is a tempest - a whirling hurricane -  and its best not to get in her way.

She flags down the first cab she sees, whistling loudly to make sure she’s got his attention.

“Where to, darlin’?”

“I need you to take me to this address in London, as fast as you possibly can.” She scribbles down the address Gigi had given her for the Elsie Perrin Williams Estate on a gum wrapper she finds in her purse and hands it to him.

“Are you serious? That’s 200 kilometers from here! It’ll take up my whole morning. Can’t I just take you to the train station instead?”

“No. Now drive. I promise, if you can get us there in under two hours I’ll tip you an extra hundred.”

He spins back around and shifts into gear, cutting a car off as he immediately starts heading down the road. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s an outrageous amount of money to spend and she knows it, but Tessa doesn’t care. All that matters is talking to Scott before he walks down the aisle and away from her forever.

 

 

The taxi pulls up in front of a pretty white Tuscan style mansion surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and topiaries. It’s a pretty venue, she’ll admit, but not exactly her taste. She hands the driver a wad of cash from her purse and then rushes up the steps into the building.

The first thing she sees is the wall she runs into after opening the front door. Only, this wall turns around and begins apologizing.

“I am so sorry. I should not have been standing in front-Tessa? Tessa Virtue?”

She rubs her bruised nose and looks up at the man. He looks vaguely familiar, but she can’t quite place him until he says, “Long time no see, Tutu.”

“Danny Moir.” She states. “I think you broke my nose.”

He laughs and pulls her into a hug, which is the last thing she expects. She tentatively begins to return it just as he lets her go.

“I didn’t know you were coming today. Honestly, I kind of thought Scott hated you." He says it without malice or cruelty, the way only a Moir can. Tessa just rolls her eyes at the man she's always thought of as one of her own brothers. "No offense, I mean you look great, but a little under-dressed, don’t you think?”

Tessa flushes with embarrassment. Honestly, dressing for the wedding had been the last thing on her mind. She’s just grateful she didn’t show up in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. “Yeah, well, it was kind of a last minute decision to come. Do you, um… do you know where Scott is?”

Danny’s smile fades and he looks at her for a long moment. Eyes searching her face for answers she’s not prepared to give – at least not to him. Finally he sighs and opens his mouth. “He’s upstairs, second door on the right. But don’t let my mom see you.”

Tessa nods, reaching out and squeezing his hand in gratitude, before slipping quietly through the crowd and up the stairs.

 

Her knuckles fall lightly against the wood, and Tessa feels the sudden urge to climb into the giant ceramic vase at the end of the hall and hide instead of waiting for a response. She's contemplating the likelihood of getting stuck in it when she hears Scott's voice telling her to come in. 

With one long, steadying breath she turns the handle and steps inside, shutting the door behind her.

“I hope that’s you mom, because I cannot for the life of me seem to remember how to tie a tie.” He turns around, hands twisting in the fabric around his neck. For a second he looks just like he did when they were kids and he was struggling with a costume before a competition, and Tessa finds herself laughing.

His eyes shoot up to find hers. “Tessa? What are you doing here?” He looks so horrified that her laugh immediately dies in her throat, the butterflies in her stomach whipping themselves into a frenzy.

“We need to talk. You didn’t call.” Her voice isn’t accusatory, although that’s how she feels, instead sounding more like a wounded animal.

He refuses to look at her, eyes skittering around the room from one object to the next, never settling. “I couldn’t. We shouldn’t have kissed. It was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. It was _right_. And I know you thought so too. You said it yourself.” Her voice has picked up strength now, if not volume, and she steps forward. Scott immediately reacts by stepping back, maintaining the distance between them.

“I was caught up in the moment. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but that wasn’t my intention.”

“Not your intention!? All I wanted was to talk to you, to apologize, and then _you_ kissed _me._ And I tried to be an adult and talk to you about it, and all you said was you had some thinking to do.” She steps forward a few more paces, and Scott jumps behind a chair – as if he needs to keep obstacles between them for his own safety. Tessa doesn’t think she could ever hurt him, but if he keeps being an idiot, she might punch him in the arm.

“Yes.” He catches onto the end of her statement like it’s a lifeline. “Some thinking. Exactly.” He finally looks her in the eye, jaw taught and hands clenching so tightly on the back of the chair in front of him that his knuckles have gone white. He speaks his next words like a carefully rehearsed script. “I love Gigi, and we are getting married today. She’s a great girl and she makes me happy. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” And Tessa really doesn’t. Logically her brain hears what he says and knows that they’re sentences with words and definitions, but in the context of everything that’s happened it just doesn’t compute. “I know I was an awful person, but I’m not her anymore. I don’t even know her. I have to believe that if you knew that, if in your heart, you really, really knew that, you wouldn’t be getting ready to marry someone now. Unless that someone were me.”

The stony façade drops for a moment, and Tessa can see the struggle going on behind Scott’s eyes. “Tess, I’m not gonna lie to you. I have felt things these past few weeks that I didn’t know I could feel anymore. Part of me has always loved you, and probably always will, but we can’t turn back time.”

“Why not?” Tessa asks desperately, hands itching to reach out to him. To hold on and never let go.

“I moved on. You moved on. We’ve gone down different paths for so long and made different choices. And…” He swallows loudly, breaking eye contact again as he confesses, “Gigi’s pregnant. She found out yesterday. I care about her, you know? You don’t always get the dream, but you get awfully close.”

Hot tears stream down her cheeks and Scott looks absolutely wrecked. Like he desperately wants to fix it, but he just can’t.

“Please don’t cry, Tess.” He whispers, his own eyes growing red as they fill with unspilled tears.

“This can’t be how our story ends.”

“Our story ended a long time ago, this has just been… an epilogue.” He says it as gently as he can, and Tessa understands. She doesn’t want to, God knows she wants to throw caution to the wind and kiss him and make him run away with her.

But that feels distinctly like something the other Tessa would do. Take and take and take with no regard for the consequences or anyone else’s feelings. And Tessa refuses to be that person, even for a second.

“I should go.” She can’t look at him as she turns for the door, vision blurred and feet tripping over the fancy rug. But when her fingers graze the door handle, she can’t fight the urge to turn around for one last look at him.

He’s watching her go, the light coming in from the window behind him like a beacon, and his hands are still clutching onto the chair like it’s his only lifeline.

“I want you to be happy. So, so happy. I love you, Scott. You’re my best friend.”

“Tessa, I…” He finally lets go with one hand, foot stepping towards her, but Tessa knows if he touches her she won’t have the strength to leave.

“Have an amazing life. You deserve it.”

 

 

Tessa runs. She runs and runs and runs until her lungs are heaving and her legs are burning. Past wedding guests and their shocked and annoyed faces, past Danny Moir’s shouted command to wait, past Alma Moir and her fierce glare. She runs all the way until she reaches her mom’s house. Finding the door unlocked and bursting through it like water through a dam.

“What in God’s name? Tessa?”

Kate Virtue comes running out of the kitchen at the unexpected sound of the door, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of her sobbing, sweaty daughter. Tessa looks at her mom, her short blonde hair and wide eyes, and barely gets out a broken, “Mom?” before collapsing on the sofa and burying her head in her arms.

Kate, bless her heart, doesn’t pause for a moment. She steps back into the kitchen to get Tessa a tall glass of water and then joins her on the couch, rubbing slow circles into her back and making soothing sounds.

When the shaking finally stops and Tessa feels a little more under control, Kate asks, “What happened, honey?”

And Tessa is so, so tired of pretending. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since she’s seen her mom, or talked to her, but she opens up anyway – because that’s what she’s always done. Her mother is her rock, and she needs her now more than ever.

“Scott’s getting married. Today. Right now. To someone else.”

Clearly that wasn’t what her mom expected to hear, if her reaction is any indication. She sits back, eyebrows raised, and looks at Tessa as if seeing her for the first time.

“Yes, I know. I was invited to the reception. I… didn’t realize you had any contact with him.”

“I didn’t. Not for a long time. But then something happened and we sort of… reconnected a few weeks ago and I just… I guess I thought there was something there. I didn’t realize how much I needed him until I found out he was getting married.”

Kate nods slowly, her lips pursed, and Tessa wonders if she’s about to get reprimanded for being a homewrecker.

“You’re in love with him.” She says it like it’s a fact. Something she’s always known. Tessa has no response. She can’t lie, but she doesn’t want to admit the sad truth. “Oh, honey… I won’t deny that when you were children Alma and I always suspected that there might be… a connection. I think we even hoped someday that you two would-“

She huffs out a breath and starts again. “But you made different choices. And he’s happy now. I know it’s hard when things don’t work out how we want them to, and sometimes we don’t realize what we want until it’s too late, but that’s part of life. We hurt and we learn and we grow.”

Tessa watches her mom’s face, the little winces, and remembers that her parents are divorced now. Her mom is speaking from experience. She surges forward and wraps her arms around her, hugging her mother as tightly as she can. “I’ve missed you, Mom.”

Kate returns the hug just as tightly, burying her head in Tessa’s shoulder a little bit. “I’ve missed you too. It’s so good to finally have you home again, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”

“Can I stay here?”

“You can stay as long as you like.”

 

           

Tessa’s old bedroom is exactly how she remembers it. The pale yellow walls, white carpet, and skinny twin bed with the white and pink polka dot duvet. There are stacks of boxes in the corner with her name written on them and the year they belong to.

She opens the one sitting on top, from 2007, finding her high school diploma and yearbook and a certificate marking her participation on the school paper. She places the lid carefully back on the box and moves on, working her way through the years in reverse.

There are notes from the Six Chicks girls – written in a secret code that Tessa doesn’t remember or care to decipher. A bouquet of imitation carnations with a card from Josh Hodges. Ribbons and medals from skating competitions, including her last one from that fateful competition in 2006.

Finally Tessa reaches the box from the last year she remembers, 2002. Inside it there's newspaper clippings from the Salt Lake City Olympics, one of her competition dresses that she’d loved, and a small box with her name written in Scott’s handwriting.

Tessa recognizes it instantly, holding her breath as she opens it – breathing a sigh of relief when she finds the medal he’d made her for her thirteenth birthday tucked safely inside. She pulls it out, glitter flaking off and falling onto the floor, and holds it close to her chest as she sits down on the bed.

Tears fall again, soft and quiet, as Tessa mourns what could have been if she’d only been wise enough to see it. Her eyes are shut tight as she rocks back and forth, holding the medal like it’s her only link to another life.

 

\----------

 

The air shifts around her, almost imperceptibly, and the room goes unnaturally dark. Lifting her hand to her face, she’s confused to find a scarf wrapped around her head and covering her eyes.

“What the heck?” She removes it just in time to see the door in front of her open and Scott staring back at her. The closet door. The closet door from her host family’s house in Kitchener. And there’s Scott – fourteen years old and looking at her with such an adorably confused face.

Tessa launches herself at him, laughing as they both fall over backwards. Without thinking, she presses a kiss to his lips.

Pulling back before he has a second to catch his breath, she grins down at him.

He’s smiling up at her with bright pink cheeks and bashful eyes. “Wow. What’s that for?”

“I’m just really glad to see you. Come on.”

She jumps to her feet, taking his hand in hers and leading him towards the stairs. Dani stands at the top, eyes glancing down and disapproving frown forming when she sees how Tessa’s hand clutches Scott’s.

“I forgot my jacket. Where is it?”

“In the living room.” She plucks her report out of Dani’s hands. “This is mine. Don’t you know stealing other people’s work is wrong?”

“Excuse me?”

“See ya never, Dani!” Tessa gives her a cheerful little wave, still dragging Scott out of the door.

“Where are we going?” He asks, looping his fingers through hers and looking immensely satisfied at the way Dani is left flabbergasted and furious in the doorway.

“To the rest of our lives, Scotty. To our future.”

“Together?” He grins, the afternoon sun lighting up his face, and Tessa's heart swells with affection. 

“Always.”  


	9. My Heart is Set on You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that I know is you’re the one for me  
> While the world is fleeting  
> You are all I’m needing 
> 
> No there’s nothing you could do to lose my love  
> Even on bad days  
> Leaning on the good things 
> 
> As sure as the moon falls  
> Sure as the sunrise 
> 
> My heart is set on you  
> My heart is set on you  
> No matter what you do  
> Oh still my heart is set on you

Epilogue

 

“In those moments when the music ended in PyeongChang, I just looked at Scott and I was so grateful to have lived the last twenty years by his side and to share in that moment together.” Tessa can’t resist looking at Scott as she answers Ellen’s question. She’s probably looking at him too much, to be honest, her actions speaking louder than her words, but she can’t help it. Her emotions are still heightened, even a month after their triumph on the podium, and it's hard for her not to simply explode with how much she's feeling right now.

Pictures of them in their most compromising on-ice positions play across the big screen behind them as the audience cackles and Ellen stares at them – her blue eyes piercing and all too insightful. Tessa's cheeks turn pink as realizes she’d let her mouth get away from her, going on and on about how grateful she is and lucky, and Scott’s looking at her like he feels exactly the same way. It’s no surprise that when she finally can get her mouth to shut up, Ellen smirks and repeats herself.

“So you’re not a couple?”

Everyone laughs and an awkward giggle escapes Tessa. She tries to salvage the situation by saying, “If we were we would announce it here.”

She feels Scott perk up next to her, eyes boring into the side of her head, but she just chuckles again and forces herself not to look at him.

“In twenty years there’s never been a time that you dated at all?” Ellen presses, and Tessa sits back – content to let Scott respond with their scripted answer about the time they dated as kids.

She smiles and watches him talk, her mind wandering back to a birthday kiss six years after they "dated" and the weird events surrounding that day. It’s been a long time since her surreal time-travel/out of body experience when she was thirteen (she’s never known what exactly to call it in her head). So long that she hardly ever thinks of it anymore. But the whole experience leading up to and surrounding PyeongChang has been a constant reminder of what she could have missed if she hadn’t had the opportunity to glimpse into her future, learn a few painful lessons, and make the necessary changes.

           

Their lives haven't been smooth sailing. They've had ups and downs, victorious wins (Vancouver) and devastating losses (Sochi). They’d been stronger than ever in Russia - so alone, and yet a team in their loneliness - and then broken apart like crumbling sand afterwards. Scott had dated other women and Tessa had dated other men. But one thing remained constant: Tessa’s belief that they were meant to be and her commitment to making their partnership work.

They went to so much therapy, met with so many counselors and coaches, and painstakingly learned how to communicate effectively and become the team that they are today.

By the time they went to China in 2016, Tessa knew that they were finally ready to try again. That things were going to be different. 

Of course, in a twenty year partnership as intense as theirs, it was natural that they had attempted having an off-ice relationship. They’d actually tried a few times – in 2008 before her first surgery (the fallout from which nearly destroyed them), during 2013 leading up to, and then imploding, at Sochi, and a brief _encounter_ after one of their Stars on Ice shows in 2015. When performing Say It Right had pushed them both further than they could handle.

But they had come back from all of those instances stronger and better than ever, and the past two years have been the best in her entire life. 

           

Tessa isn’t about to announce that to the world on Ellen though, so she and Scott deflect her questions and sit up a little taller under her inquisitive stare, and play her dating game – getting exactly the right amount of questions wrong (although Tessa slips up a little on the boxer/briefs question, something she knows Scott will tease her about later. She’ll joke that it’s because he sleeps naked all the time now, so how can she be expected to remember?) 

They leave the taping, gift bags in tow, feeling fairly confident that they’ve managed to keep people convinced that they’re not dating (they haven’t), and do some sightseeing around Los Angeles before a romantic dinner. At which they will not kiss or hold hands, but their water will still ask them how long they've been together and congratulate them on whatever they're celebrating as he pours the champagne. 

 

Later that night, when they’re back in their hotel room snuggled in bed together and watching _Funny Face_ on one of the cable channels, Tessa opens a little wooden box and slips two rings back on her left hand.

Scott smiles softly, eyes never leaving the screen, and lifts her hand up to kiss them where they rest on their rightful place on her finger.

It’s their three month anniversary today, and Tessa still can’t quite believe it. Can’t quite get used to the idea that she actually managed to get everything she wanted. She’ll find herself sitting in their kitchen sometimes, boiling water forgotten or yogurt half-eaten and sliding off her spoon, staring at her wedding band and grinning so wide her cheeks will hurt for hours after. Every once in a while Scott will find her like that and it leads to other activities that she still can’t always believe she gets to do with him.

“You almost gave me a heart attack today.” He murmurs, stroking his thumb over her knuckles on the hand he’s pulled into his lap.

“I did? I thought we handled the interview pretty well.”

“When you talked about announcing it, us, there. For half a second I thought you were being serious. Nearly gave the whole damn secret away right then.” He chuckles and Tessa nudges his shoulder with hers.

"You’re one to talk. Should we list all the times you’ve slipped up?” She arches an eyebrow at him, lips twitching as she tries not to smile.

“I’m perfectly aware that I’m ‘a walking rom-com’ thank you.” He sniffs and turns up his nose, and Tessa does smile at him then.

“You are. And I love that about you.” It’s one of her favorite things about him actually. If she’s being honest, every time they do an interview part of her waits with anticipation to see what little mistake he'll make. She loves teasing him about it afterwards. Loves the way social media erupts about how perfect they are together (she agrees).

It’s hard for Tessa to be openly emotional. She’s always been the practical, rational, stable one in their partnership, and Scott brings the passion and emotion. He wears his heart on his sleeve. And thank god for that, because if he didn’t they might never have gotten together.

          

          

After China, and their decision to maybe try this whole competition thing again, their interactions had been stilted and awkward. Tessa didn’t know where she stood with him outside of their partnership. Eventually, he broke up with his girlfriend, citing their commitment to Olympic Gold as the reason and “two years, no distractions,” but he never gave any indication that he still held romantic feelings for her.

Disappointed, but grateful to be at his side competing again, Tessa resigned herself to the fact that maybe they were  _platonic_  soulmates after all, and worked hard to adjust to living her life by his side as his best friend.

Then one afternoon he’d texted her a link to Latch by Sam Smith with a simple message, “This is kind of like us, yeah?”

Heart beating out of her chest, desperate to know if he meant what she thought he did, she’d replied, “Yes.”

 

And just like that, their rehearsals _sparkled_ again. Every touch, every glance, was electric. Full of possibility. Scott started letting his hands linger, lips grazing her skin, eyes speaking volumes. Tessa felt like she was living in a perpetual state of hyper-awareness and desire, but didn’t let herself dare to hope that it was anything more than acting. They'd always been proud of the stories they could tell on the ice.

It was only acting when Scott started cooking her dinner almost every night ("Man cannot live by poached eggs alone, T"). It was only acting when he stayed to watch movies with her, alternating each night who got to pick the film, and dropping his arm over her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was only acting when he rested his hand on her lower back at every opportunity – by the boards, walking to and from practice, waiting in line at the grocery store and leaning over to whisper something funny in her ear.

It was only acting when he asked if they could maybe spend Labor Day together, just the two of them. “Team bonding” he’d said, with a secret smile and a look in his eyes that sent a rush of heat through her body – prickling her skin and making her want to skip ahead to the following week and see just what exactly he had planned. 

 

\--------

_Labor Day Weekend 2016_

               

Bonding. Tessa tries to remind herself that's what they were here to do. She follows Scott into the cottage, dropping off their bags in their respective bedrooms before meeting back up to head out and get dinner.

They don't do anything that night other than eat greasy, delicious burgers and watch _You've Got Mail_. She feels a little disappointed, but tries to content herself with the knowledge that they have the whole weekend ahead of them.

The next morning Scott wakes Tessa up early and makes her go on a jog. She's grouchy and irritable the entire time until he drags her into a coffee shop and gets her caffeinated with an affectionate eye-roll. "You're never going to be a morning person, are you?" 

"Chances are pretty much zero." She grumbles, cupping her coffee with both hands and waiting for her brain to spark back to life. 

Scott laughs louder than she thinks the situation calls for, and pulls her into a tight one-armed hug. He plants a kiss on the top of her head and Tessa smiles in spite of herself. 

Bonding. They're here to bond. 

 

They grab some sparklers at the store on their walk back to the cottage, as well as supplies to make s'mores later, and when they get back Tessa insists that it's team relaxation time. 

She puts on her new hot pink one-piece swimming suit and grabs her favorite floppy hat, nervous and self-conscious in a way she hasn't been in years. Too afraid to watch Scott's reaction to her outfit as he follows closely behind her on their way down to the sand. 

"Let's put the chairs here." Tessa points and Scott drags to two long chairs over into position - closer together than Tessa would have put them herself. She hides a smile and settles in for some sunbathing and a siesta. 

Scott's distracted reading some new book about the history of the Maple Leafs, and Tessa surreptitiously runs her eyes across his body - no shirt, swim-trunks, and Blue Jays hat - unconsciously licking her lips, before shaking her head at herself and letting her mind drift off.

At some point, she vaguely hears him set his beer and book down on the sand and sit up. 

"I'm in love with you." 

Tessa's sleeping brain short-circuits. She sits up slowly, looking at his intense face in confusion, before rubbing her eyes and stretching like a cat - trying to wake herself up. Finally she asks, “What did you say?” Certain that she must have heard him wrong. 

“I said, I’m in love with you. I want to be with you. For good this time. What do you think?” He shrugs like this isn't potentially the most important conversation of their lives and Tessa stares at him unblinking.

The longer she's silent the more his calm exterior begins to crack. Eventually he starts speaking in rushed words, “Unless you’re not interested. If you just want to be friends, I get it. It’s totally fine if you never want to speak of this again and we just go back to-“

Tessa throws herself into his lap, effectively shutting him up by giving him a solid kiss. When she pulls back he has the most adorable bewildered expression on his face and his hair is sticking up in a million different directions thanks to the work of her hands.

“Tess?” He looks at her, hope shining through his eyes, and Tessa feels fairly certain that whoever lives across Lake Huron can see her glowing like a beacon from happiness right now.

“I’m in love with you too. Always have been. I love you so, so much.” She peppers kisses across his cheekbones as he laughs in relief.

“Thank God. I didn’t think I could keep touching you during practice without spontaneously combusting.” His grip on her waist tightens, one hand running up her bare leg, speaking promises of things to come (her and him, preferably).

“I think I would have combusted first. You’ve been driving me crazy!” She pretends to be indignant, swatting him on the shoulder. 

Scott smirks, looking distinctly like a man who's been caught being naughty and feels no remorse. “I had to test the waters first. See if you felt the same way.”

“Well you’ve had me about ten seconds away from dragging you off the ice and having my way with you in the dressing room, so I think your experiment was a success.” She teases, tugging his hair a little bit as playful punishment. His eyes grow dark in pleasure, shooting a thrill through her body.

“You’re one to talk. I know you’ve been posting those bikini pictures on Instagram just to torture me.” He glares at her, pinching the inside of her thigh.

She giggles. “I thought you didn’t do social media?”

He fixes her with a pointed look. “I’ve always followed your stuff.”

Tessa laughs in earnest then. Of course she knows he follows her. She'd clicked the follow button herself when he first signed up for the app. She's pleased to find out that he'd noticed her efforts to get his attention. 

“You don’t really mind though, do you?”

Scott smiles wickedly and slips the hot pink strap of her swimsuit off her shoulder, placing a kiss there. “Not now that I can touch, no.”

“You’ve always touched.” Tessa’s voice comes out huskier than she intended, and she shifts a little on his lap, satisfied when he nips her shoulder in warning.

“Not like I intend to right now. If I touched you like this on the ice Patrice and Marie-France would probably kill me, then you, then me again.”

"I think we could probably work some of this into our routines." Tessa’s laugh turns into a moan as he lowers her swimsuit further to take her breast in his mouth. “Inside.” She gasps out, pleasure spiking between her legs.

“Not yet. Patience.” Scott says, running a finger along the seam of her suit at the top of her thigh.

“No.” She huffs out a laugh. “I mean _inside the house,_ you dummy. I’m not doing this out here.”

Scott lifts his head from her breast with a sheepish smile. “Oh.”

She ruffles his hair affectionately and stands up, smirking as Scott has to readjust himself in his swim-trunks before gathering their things and following her back to the cottage.

 

Later, as they lie together tangled up in the blankets, a cool breeze blowing in from the open window and gently ruffling the white curtains, Scott wraps his arms around her from behind – body fitting perfectly with hers like it always has, like they were made for each other – and kisses her neck before asking, “Do you ever think about what it would have been like if we didn’t work out?”

Tessa tenses, and he scatters kisses across her shoulders and upper back like rain until she relaxes again and can answer. “What do you mean? Like, today or in general?”

“I mean, what if we’d quit as kids? Can you imagine? Sometimes I wonder, and that’s usually when I show up at your house to watch a movie or go for a walk – just so I can hold your hand and reassure myself that we’re in this together.”

Tessa’s quiet for a moment, wondering if now would be the time to mention her little foray into an alternate universe, but instead she just says, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. It would have been a disaster.”

“For me, absolutely. I’d be lost without you. But you? You’d probably be out there, conquering the fashion world or something.” Scott says it like it's a fact he's accepted long ago. That he needs her more than she needs him. 

Tessa turns around in his arms, bumping her nose alongside his and reaching around to hold him just as tightly. “You’re wrong. I know for a fact my life would have been terrible without you.”

His eyes grow soft and he smiles, “You know for a fact, eh?”

Tessa nods solemnly, before tilting her chin up to kiss him. “You make me better. I’m so grateful, every day, to have you and to have spent the last twenty years with you and the next twenty and beyond.”

“Whoa, is that a proposal, T?” Scott teases, his fingers dancing along her ribcage, making her laugh and squirm. A blush spreads across her upper-body, and Tessa stares at where her right hand rests against his chest, above his heart, as she says, “Not yet, but someday.”

A beautiful smile blooms across Scott’s face. “Yeah, someday.” He whispers, kissing her, and then they don’t talk again at all for a little while.

 

\-------------

 

Scott breathes deeply behind her, his chest rising and falling against her back. Post-coital sleeping-Scott is always dead to the world. But Tessa is restless and can’t get the cogs in her brain to stop spinning. She reaches for her phone and selects one of the pictures from their Ellen interview to post – adding the caption: Started from the bottom now we’re here.

A fairly innocuous comment, but so, so true. Now they’re _here_ , and Tessa couldn’t be happier.

 

One day, when the new edition of their book is out, she’ll post a few pictures from their wedding. The décor, the venue (a beautiful winery, blanketed in snow), her bridesmaids dressed in shades of lilac and light pink, her dress – a gorgeous custom gown by Mathieu Caron (who else would she trust with the most important costume of her life?), Scott in his tux waiting for her at the end of the aisle. But for now it’s their secret, carefully kept so that the world will focus on their career (which most people do), instead of their love life.

 

In quiet moments like these though, with Scott’s hand resting on her hip, together and happy and heading into the future, Tessa thinks about what could have been and smiles.

 

Thirty? Almost.

 

Flirty? Only with her _husband_.

 

Thriving?

 

 

Definitely.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for coming on this journey for me! It's been a really fun adventure. I had no idea where it was going to take me when Lizzie first suggested this AU, but I've loved going along for the ride. I hope you've enjoyed it too. <3
> 
>  
> 
> The lyrics at the beginning (and chapter title) are from the song My Heart is Set by Handsome & Gretyl.


End file.
